


Painted in Blue

by honggjoongie



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Art, Artist Kim Hongjoong, Boys Kissing, Business, Businessman Park Seonghwa, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fluff, Graffiti, Homelessness, Homophobia, M/M, Painting, seongjoong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28728447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honggjoongie/pseuds/honggjoongie
Summary: After Hongjoong pushes Seonghwa out of the way of a car, effectively introducing himself into his life, everything Seonghwa's ever known is turned on its head.He can't help but feel a pull towards the artist that paints his dull world in color.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 27
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, it's been a while! This is a continuation of the story from the last chapter of the Christmas advent calendar, so I repeated that first part here.  
> I really like how this turned out, and I'm really excited to share it with all of you. Enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I really don't know anything about business, or art/commissions, or graffiti, so bear with me (:

Seonghwa wakes up with his king size bed stretching out to the right of him, most of the sheets untouched. He shuts off his alarm and climbs out of bed, sliding on his sandals and leaving the room. He shuffles down the hallway, the air cold around him as he passes by his maid, Sohyun, who offers him a small bow before going into his room to tidy it. Not that there’s much to do, he rarely makes a mess, but it can never be too clean.

He continues through the almost maze like house, walking down the stairs and into the kitchen. His chef, Changmin, greets him the same way Sohyun had, no words exchanged between the two. He eats his breakfast at the bar, accompanied by the quiet, the only sound aside from the scraping of his plate is Changmin cleaning up the kitchen. Once he’s done, he makes the trek back towards his room to take a shower and get dressed. 

Donned in a crisp black and white suit, dark hair slicked back, Seonghwa leaves the house, the biting winter air meeting him when he walks out the door. While he could have his driver take him to work, he’d decided to walk, feeling the occasional need for a little extra fresh air nudging him. 

He walks by students on their way to school, others wearing similar suits to his, many chatting on the phone, but he doesn’t pay any of them any mind. He passes a few people sitting on the concrete, blankets on their shoulders, a cup in front of them and a sign in their hands. He holds his head higher as he hurries past them. 

Nearing the building his office is in, Seonghwa starts walking across the crosswalk, his phone buzzing in his pocket when he steps into the street. He checks the screen, his steps not faltering, until his phone flies out of his hand with the impact of another person running into him, both of them tumbling to the ground. He barely has time to register what’s happening before a car is barreling through the crosswalk directly where he was standing, showing no signs of stopping or slowing. 

He whips his head around to see who’d pushed him out of the way. It’s a man he’s seen on the streets sometimes, never begging, but sleeping outside nonetheless. They’re both panting as they eye each other up. Seonghwa pulls himself to his feet, the other doing the same. 

The boy’s not much shorter than Seonghwa, his blue hair coming up to Seonghwa’s ear, but the way his skin hugs his bones tightly makes him appear much smaller. There’s paint splattered over his ragged clothes, and Seonghwa has to catch himself before he takes a step away from him. It takes another moment before it hits Seonghwa that the blue haired boy in front of him just saved his life. 

“Uh, thank you.” Seonghwa manages, straightening his jacket and dusting himself off. 

He spots his phone on the ground, leaning over and picking it up. He doesn’t bat an eye when he turns it over and sees that the screen is shattered, he’ll just have to buy a new one. When he faces the other boy again, he’s still silently staring at him, his features guarded. 

“Don’t mention it.” The boy deadpans, turning on his heel to walk away.

“Wait!” Seonghwa calls on instinct, the other stopping but not turning around, “What’s your name?” 

Seonghwa couldn’t honestly explain why he cares about what the boy who lives on the street’s name is, but he did just save his life, afterall. 

“Hongjoong.” The blue haired boy states, sharp and quick. Seonghwa nods, but he knows Hongjoong can’t see it.

“My name is Seong-”

Hongjoong spins back around, stepping towards Seonghwa, “Oh I know exactly who you are,  _ Park Seonghwa _ .” he spits his name out like it’s poison on his tongue. 

Seonghwa chooses to ignore his remark and the venom in his voice, “Is there some way I can thank you for saving me?” 

“No, I don’t want anything from you.” Hongjoong answers, hostility wound around him.

“Please, at least let me make you dinner tonight, just as a thank you.” Seonghwa tries, the idea seeming harmless yet decent enough. 

Hongjoong’s expression shifts to surprise, and Seonghwa can’t say he blames him. Under normal circumstances he would never allow someone like him into his house, but he hates to be in anyone’s debt.

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, running them over him, looking him up and down, “No thanks.”

Seonghwa thinks Hongjoong’s previous surprise is nothing compared to the shock that rushes over him. 

“Wait, so you… don’t want a free home cooked meal?” 

“Nope.” Hongjoong dismisses, popping the p, before walking away from Seonghwa again.

Seonghwa moves without thinking, rushing to catch up to the smaller boy, “But you- I’ve seen you around here before, you’re, homeless aren’t you?” Seonghwa can feel his disbelief multiply every second he’s around Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong just shrugs, still staring straight ahead as he walks, “I couch surf when I can.” 

“Well I’m offering for you to spend the evening at my house, and if you know me, then you know where that is. Why would you turn that down?” 

“Because I’m not some charity case.” Hongjoong stops to answer, his eyes firm, almost challenging as they stare into Seonghwa’s before he continues walking without waiting for Seonghwa to answer. 

“I’m just trying to thank you, why won’t you let me?” Seonghwa doesn’t mean to raise his voice, calling after Hongjoong as he trails after him, but every nonsense word Hongjoong says drives frustration deeper into him. 

“I just don’t want anything from you. I know what you’ve done to get your money, and I don’t want any part of it.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t know exactly what Hongjoong’s referring to, but he can hazard a couple guesses. 

He feels anger etch its way onto his face the same way it embeds in his chest, and he reaches out, grabbing Hongjoong’s arm to stop him from walking further, “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Sorry to disappoint, rich boy. Not my fault no one’s ever told you no before.” Hongjoong doesn’t back down, only getting further into Seonghwa’s space, and Seonghwa refuses to let on how close to home his words hit. 

“Look, it seems like you haven’t eaten a real meal in weeks, just let me thank you properly.” Seonghwa’s surprised by his own adamance, but all he knows is that Hongjoong’s stubbornness is rubbing on every one of his nerves.

“Don’t act like you suddenly care about me and if I eat or not.” Hongjoong bites.

Seonghwa can’t blame him for doubting his motivations, but he finds it unimportant. “Will you just stop being stubborn for two seconds and let me make you dinner?” He almost tacks a please on the end, but he has enough pride left to restrain.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bark back a snarky response, his shoulders dropping. “Fine, I’ll have dinner with you. But only because I’m starving and my friend skipped town, not because I give a shit about your bruised ego.” 

Seonghwa sighs in relief and gives Hongjoong his address, disregarding the younger’s grumbles about already knowing where he lives. They plan for him to come at six in the evening, and they part with the tension between them colder than the air around them. 

  
  


Seonghwa trudges the rest of the way to work, the familiar path now feeling somehow different after his interaction with Hongjoong. He walks in the towering building, nodding to various coworkers as he makes his way up the elevator and to his office. He settles at his desk, looking over what he needs to get done. As the day goes by, he struggles to delve into his work, his mind fighting against him to stray towards the strange boy with blue hair. 

After hours of far less productive work than he’d like, he sits back in his chair, turning to look out the large window overlooking the city. He briefly wonders, in all of the buildings that he looks down on, where Hongjoong is among them. With a frustrated sigh he shoves the thought aside and turns back towards his computer screen.

  
  


While he would normally stay at the office late into the night, today Seonghwa leaves with the rest of the building, giving him enough time to have dinner with Hongjoong. As he makes his way back through the bustling streets, he tries to decipher his feelings towards his impending dinner. The main feeling he can identify is the urge to get it over with so he can rid himself of whatever guilt or debt has been weighing on him since this morning. 

He’d told Changmin the time they’re planning on having dinner, so Seonghwa’s met with him bustling around the kitchen when he walks in the door. He finds it strange, to have so much of the day left when he gets home. After taking off his jacket he goes into his home office, set on catching up on a portion of the work he’d been too distracted to get to today. That occupies his time until he hears a knock at the front door and he checks the clock to see that it’s already past six. 

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbow, running a hand through his hair and walking out of his office. He reaches the front door just as Sohyun, who had let Hongjoong in the house, offers to take his coat, as is customary, before sputtering off when she realizes Hongjoong doesn’t have one. Seonghwa dismisses her with a wave of his hand and she bows, blushing, before scrambling into the kitchen, presumably to help finish setting the table for their meal. 

“Thank you for coming.” Seonghwa addresses Hongjoong. 

“I said I would.” 

Seonghwa can’t help but notice how utterly out of place Hongjoong looks, standing on the spotless floors of Seonghwa’s expansive house, among the sleek furniture, next to Seonghwa, in his slacks and black button up shirt. In contrast, Hongjoong’s wearing jeans with holes ripped through them and a striped long sleeve, different colors of paint splattered over the fabric. His hair is the most colorful thing in the whole house, the bright blue messy on top of his head. 

“Should we go?” Seonghwa asks, realizing he was all but staring at the younger.

Hongjoong nods, and Seonghwa leads the way to the dining room. As they walk through the halls Seonghwa glances back periodically, sees Hongjoong looking around him with wide eyes at the high ceilings, vast rooms, and seemingly never ending hallways. 

They sit across from each other at the large wooden table, Hongjoong watching as Sohyun serves them their drinks and then goes into the kitchen, walking out with their plates, placing each down in front of them before leaving them alone with a bow. Ignoring his own food for a moment, Seonghwa watches Hongjoong eye the plate in front of him. 

“I thought you said you were going to make me dinner?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Uh, yeah?” Seonghwa gestures to the plate in front of Hongjoong full of steaming food, confusion apparent in his voice. 

“No, yeah I know, I just thought that you- actually nevermind, forget it.” Hongjoong waves him off, digging into his food like he’s starving, which Seonghwa remembers he’d mentioned he is.

Seonghwa knows what he means, he had said he’d make him dinner without thinking about it, he just doesn’t see why it matters to Hongjoong. He shrugs it off, starting to eat his own meal as well. While it’s no less silent than when he’s by himself, Seonghwa’s hit with the fact that this is the first time he’s eaten with another person in longer than he can remember. 

“So where are you from?” Seonghwa decides he might as well make the most of it while he has someone to talk to.

“Anyang.” Hongjoong doesn’t even look up at him.

“How long have you been here?” Seonghwa tries again. 

This sparks a reaction from the other, but his eyes are cold when they find Seonghwa’s. “Look, just cut the superficial bullshit, okay? I know neither of us are interested in small talk.” 

Hongjoong continues eating, looking away from Seonghwa, who reluctantly does the same. He sits for another few minutes in silence, until the unease eats away at him more than is tolerable. Why can’t Hongjoong ever just be agreeable?

“Fine. Then how about I ask you a different question. If you know who I am, and you hate me, and you didn’t want money or anything from me, then why did you save me today?” 

Seonghwa can see the slight shift in Hongjoong’s rough expression, he hadn’t expected the question. 

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Hongjoong answers simply, “Not that you would know anything about that.” 

Seonghwa can’t help but wince at the jab, not that it’s anything he hasn’t heard before, but it almost digs a little deeper coming from Hongjoong. He lets another stretch of silence pass before he speaks again. 

“Do you work?” He asks, and Hongjoong eyes him incredulously, “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s not just small talk, I’m actually curious.” 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “I’m an artist.” 

“Oh, that’s… nice.” Seonghwa grasps for something to say, “Did you always want to be an artist?” 

“Ever since I can remember.” Hongjoong answers, and Seonghwa feels triumphant for getting a sincere response out of him. 

“Did you go to school for it?” Seonghwa doesn’t want to lose the momentum of civility they’re building up. 

“I wanted to, it was all I wanted, really.” Hongjoong’s voice softens as he pushes the remainder of his food around his plate.

“What happened?” 

“My parents would never support me, and I couldn’t afford it on my own.” Hongjoong pauses, “They threw me out when I refused to go to school for anything other than art.”

Seonghwa frowns as he watches Hongjoong tell his story. He seems resigned, reflective even, but Seonghwa doesn’t sense any regret from him as he tells him about his past. 

“Why’d you refuse?” Seonghwa asks.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong tilts his head. 

“Why didn’t you go to school for something else? You could’ve done something practical and made money.” 

“God, you sound just like them.” Hongjoong scoffs, rolling his eyes again, more malice behind the action this time. 

“Is that bad though?” Seonghwa challenges, “Maybe they were right.” 

“They were assholes!” Hongjoong’s dark eyes pierce through him, “They disowned me just because I wanted to pursue something I’m passionate about, something that makes me happy, and now you’re going to sit there and tell me they were right?”

Hongjoong shoves his plate away from him, shaking his head. “We can’t all have mommy and daddy give us everything on a silver spoon, Seonghwa.” He spits. 

“Don’t act like you know me, Hongjoong. You’re not the only one with family problems.” Seonghwa counters, his voice low. 

“Oh, poor little rich boy has it  _ so  _ rough! Yeah, right.”

Seonghwa feels himself stiffen, his veins boiling over with rage. 

“My mom left before I was old enough to walk, and I haven’t even seen my dad in person since I was eight years old. I was raised by maids. I’ve never even heard him tell me he loves me.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth snaps closed when he finishes his rant. Him and Hongjoong can only stare at each other, both of their chests rising and falling heavily. He hadn’t planned on disclosing his personal problems to Hongjoong tonight, but he has a way of working his way under Seonghwa’s skin that takes him by surprise every time, and he can’t hold onto his composure. 

“I’d rather have no love than have it and have it taken away.” Hongjoong says, his voice distant. 

“I’ve never heard  _ anyone  _ tell me they love me.” Seonghwa adds, intent on proving to Hongjoong he isn’t exaggerating his lonely, emotionless upbringing.

Hongjoong seems to actually pause in surprise at his confession before he continues, “Still, you’re rich, you can have anything you want.” 

“Money isn’t everything, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa yells, his fist hitting the table. Hongjoong doesn’t even flinch, just looks at him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips and a knowing look in his eyes. 

Seonghwa huffs, reaching his limit of Hongjoong’s high horse act, and focuses solely on what’s left of his food. Hongjoong seems to get the hint and does the same. Neither of them say anything while they pick at their plates, the silence between them muddled by their thoughts. 

“I think I should go.” Hongjoong announces. Seonghwa doesn’t have the energy to dissect what those words make him feel. 

“Okay.” 

He walks Hongjoong to the front door, both of them remaining silent, amplifying the quiet already present in the empty house. The sky is dark when Seonghwa opens the door for Hongjoong. 

“Thank you for dinner.” Hongjoong turns to him, his voice the definition of impersonal professionalism.

“You’re welcome.” Seonghwa answers, searching for something he can’t find in Hongjoong’s eyes. Hongjoong looks back at him, waits while Seonghwa tries to put together the words for what he wants to say to him.

Seonghwa takes too long to continue, and the moment is lost, “Goodnight Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says, and he walks away from him, down the large driveway and into the night. Seonghwa wonders where he’s going. 

When Hongjoong’s out of sight Seonghwa closes the door, and he’s alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks since Seonghwa had dinner with Hongjoong, and he can’t get him out of his head. He spent the days replaying that night over and over again, remembering the things Hongjoong had said to him. At first he’d been angry at Hongjoong for acting so much better than him, for thinking he could berate him or teach him some sort of lesson. However, once the anger wore off Seonghwa was left with hollow contemplation. 

One of the things that unsettled Seonghwa the most was that he felt almost refreshed after their dinner, even though it didn’t exactly end on a positive note. He didn’t enjoy the night regardless of the fact that they fought, as he told himself so many times at first. He realized, after the millionth time going over the night in his head, that he enjoyed it  _ because  _ they fought. 

It finally clicked that no one is ever honest enough with him to lead to a fight, everyone always trying to stay on his good side and gain favors from him. He wondered what Hongjoong would think about the fact that by hating Seonghwa, he was also, in a way, helping him. 

Hongjoong’s remarks, and the piercing, knowing looks he gave Seonghwa have been stuck in his head, as well as the annoyingly prominent admiration he can’t help but hold for Hongjoong and the way he seems to always stand his ground. 

Everything about Hongjoong twists Seonghwa’s thoughts into a jumbled mess of incomprehensible tangles, combating everything he’s been raised to think within the course of one night. It’s beyond bewildering, and more than a little exhausting. 

Seonghwa tries everything he can to get Hongjoong out of his head, to move on with his life and leave the poor boy behind. He does anything he can think of, but regardless, his mind always finds its way back to Hongjoong. Every day he walks to work instead of being driven, telling himself it’s because the fresh air and light exercise is good for him, and that it has nothing to do with the chance to spot bright blue hair in the crowd.

He’s adamant with himself that he doesn’t feel a spark of excitement zip through him when he sees the very blue hair that’s been haunting him while he’s walking down the sidewalk on a frigid morning. That feeling falls away when he sees that Hongjoong is talking to a cop, the pair standing next to a bench. Hongjoong looks stiff, and as Seonghwa gets closer he recognizes the turned down lips and furrowed brow that he’s already come to be acquainted with on the younger’s face. 

He catches the tail end of the heated conversation, putting together the pieces of what Hongjoong’s in trouble for as they gesture towards the bench next to them, Hongjoong’s hair tangled. He watches as the cop pulls out his booklet, scribbling on the top paper, Hongjoong shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. Seonghwa can see the sag of his shoulders, the way his head hangs low, the bags underneath his eyes prominent against his hollow cheeks. Resolve settling in Seonghwa, he shifts his direction, striding towards Hongjoong and the cop. 

“Is there a problem, officer?” Seonghwa steps up to them, standing up straighter and layering his voice with authority. 

The officer turns towards him, his features agitated until his eyes meet Seonghwa’s and they flood with realization. 

“Oh, Mr. Park! No, no problem, I’m just giving Mr. Kim here a ticket, trying to keep the streets clean, sir.” 

“What’s the ticket for?” Seonghwa ignores the holes he can feel Hongjoong’s gaze boring into him. 

“Sleeping in a public space, sir.” The cop reports. 

Seonghwa has to make an effort not to let his disapproval show on his face. The thought of Hongjoong sleeping outside by himself, surrounded by darkness in the icy winter, makes his chest tighten uncomfortably. The feeling shocks him, he doesn’t know at what point he’d started caring more than a passing glance for people who sleep on the street.

“Ah, I see,” Seonghwa pauses, looking up in contemplation, “I think we can let Mr. Kim here off with a warning this time, don’t you?” 

The cop frowns, “I- I’m not sure if-” 

“I’d hate to have to get my father involved with this. He’s very adamant about ensuring the well being of the city he financially supports, and I know he wouldn’t be happy to hear that some are being too harshly punished for a harmless offense that I’m sure won’t happen again.” Seonghwa frowns, years of observation and practice leading him to know exactly how to mold his response to ensure the result he wants. 

As expected, the officer’s eyes widen in fear, “Of course sir, a warning is more than reasonable, I’m very sorry for the confusion.” He rips up the ticket in his hand. 

“Great, I’m glad we could reach an agreement.” Seonghwa flashes him his brightest smile.

“Have a great day, sir.” The officer offers him a bow before he hurries off, fleeing Seonghwa’s baseless threats. 

Once the cop is gone, Seonghwa turns towards Hongjoong, only to be met with his fiery glare.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong snaps.

“Um, helping?” Seonghwa’s caught between confusion and defensiveness. 

“I never asked for your help.” 

“Well clearly you needed it, the least you could do is say thank you.” Seonghwa had almost forgotten how effortlessly he and Hongjoong butt heads.

“I can take care of myself,  _ thank you. _ ” Hongjoong says, his voice dripping with contempt. 

Seonghwa has half a mind not to murmur that it doesn’t look that way to him. “I just don’t understand why you won’t ever let me help you.” He huffs instead. 

“Look, I’m sorry that you’re a shitty person, but swooping in and trying to play hero with me isn’t going to fix that.” Hongjoong’s eyes are sharp, cutting through Seonghwa as they narrow with accusation.

Seonghwa’s hands clench in fists, his blood boiling, but he holds tightly to the worry that had plagued him for weeks. “I just don’t want to sit by and watch while you need help, and I can give it to you.” 

Hongjoong opens his mouth to respond, but Seonghwa beats him to it, anticipating his words. 

“I know- you didn’t ask for my help, but I’m offering it anyways.” 

Hongjoong hesitates, eyeing Seonghwa with uncertainty, “What do you mean?” 

“Come stay with me for a little while.” 

While this isn’t how Seonghwa pictured this conversation going, the idea having never crossed his mind before this moment, it feels right when the words are out of his mouth. The anger in Hongjoong’s eyes swims with surprised confusion. 

“No- what? Of course not.” Hongjoong sputters. 

“Why not? I know you need a place to stay.” Seonghwa reasons, gesturing towards the bench they’re still standing next to, the determination that infects him when he’s with Hongjoong returning full force.

“Because I barely even know you, and you’re just, and I’m- it’s just not a good idea.” Hongjoong’s frustration grows on his face with every fragmented word he says. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa presses on, digging up every ounce of persuasiveness, “you really have no reason to say no. You need somewhere to sleep, and I have about a million extra rooms, it just makes sense. You shouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this, you don’t want to get fined or arrested next time, do you?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, whatsoever, but I actually do have somewhere to stay.” Hongjoong argues. 

Seonghwa glances at the bench next to them, his eyebrow raised. 

“Well I didn’t last night, but I do tonight.” Hongjoong huffs. “And you may be able to manipulate that cop into giving you what you want, but don’t try that shit on me.” He snarls, spinning on his heel and storming off. 

Seonghwa watches his retreating form, the increasingly familiar annoyance he feels after interacting with Hongjoong taking hold, but the odd yet persistent craving for more accompanies it as it had before. Choosing to focus on the annoyance, Seonghwa fumes the rest of the way to work. 

The day seeps through Seonghwa’s fingers, the minutes falling away, each one taking more of his focus with it. He’s determined to allocate the knot in his chest to anger at Hongjoong, but the nagging voice in his head insists that what he’s feeling is closer to worry. He swats the voice away and re-focuses on the same work he’s been trying to complete for hours.

He doesn’t let himself abandon the work day until it’s dark, sparkling stars greeting him outside his window when he stands and slips his coat on. The air feels mockingly cold when he steps out of the building and starts the short walk home. He tugs his coat tighter around himself. As he walks, he would never admit to letting out a small sigh of relief when he passes the bench from earlier and sees it vacant. The streets are empty and dark, the eerie quiet equal parts welcoming and unsettling. 

His thoughts are disrupted when he passes by the small park he never pays any attention to. His eyes wander over it, only to stop on a bench set in the middle, a lump and a patch of unmistakable blue hair resting there. He shakes his head, stomping over to the bench and stopping in front of it. The small lump shifts at the presence of another person, Hongjoong’s head raising and turning. 

“I’m not sleeping officer, I’m just meditatin-” Hongjoong’s politely convincing facade falls when he sees Seonghwa in place of a badge, “Oh, it’s you.”

Seonghwa only has to look at him, unmoving and unspeaking, and Hongjoong scoffs. 

“So my friend flaked on me tonight. I’m still not staying with you.”

“Just stay for a little while. It’s freezing out here, and you don’t even have a real coat.” Seonghwa lets sincerity show through his words.

“I’m fine, I already told you I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to save me.” 

“Do any of the other people who let you stay with them try to save you? No. So stop being stubborn and let me help you… please.” Seonghwa doesn’t mean to let the last word slip out, but his newfound need to get Hongjoong somewhere warmer than sub zero temperatures peels back his pride just enough. 

“I don’t know…” Hongjoong’s voice comes out softer, a defeated frown all that’s left on his features. The deep shiver that shakes him doesn’t go unnoticed by Seonghwa. 

“Just think of me as another one of your friends with a couch to crash on.” Seonghwa’s confidence grows as Hongjoong’s resolve visibly weakens.

“We’re not friends.” Hongjoong grumbles. 

“You know what I mean.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. 

“I guess so.” Hongjoong relents.

“So you’ll stay with me?” Seonghwa’s prepared to literally shake some sense into Hongjoong if he argues again. 

Hongjoong sighs, “Fine.” he sits up fully, crossing his arms to maintain his displeasure. 

“Come on, I’ll help you get settled.” Seonghwa nods his head towards his house, satisfied, and sets off, checking that Hongjoong’s following him. 

The younger has a pout set firmly on his lips as he stands from the bench, but he trails after him nonetheless, so Seonghwa counts it as a win. As they walk farther from the frozen bench that had meant to serve as Hongjoong’s bed, Seonghwa thinks he still doesn’t know when he’d started caring about whether or not the fiery blue haired boy sleeps out in the cold.

  
  


Hongjoong doesn’t look any less out of place the second time he steps foot through Seonghwa’s door than he did the first. He seems to shrink into himself under the weight of the overbearing house. Seonghwa wonders what would make the younger more comfortable, and then he’s hit with the disheartening thought that maybe the first step would be for him to be with anyone other than Seonghwa. 

He leads Hongjoong to one of the guest bedrooms in an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts. It doesn’t matter what Hongjoong thinks about him, he’s only here to give him a place to sleep. He pushes open the door, letting Hongjoong walk into the room, his curiosity getting the better of him as he watches the other’s reaction. 

Hongjoong’s eyes are wide as he surveys the large room. Seonghwa thinks it’s barren and lacking compared to the sophisticated and admittedly far more expensive furniture of his own room, but Hongjoong’s mouth hangs open as he takes in the king size bed, sleek modern dresser and flat screen tv hung on the wall. 

“The bathroom is through there.” Seonghwa points to the second door in the room. “Anything you need should be in there, but if there’s anything else you need my room’s just down the hall.” 

Hongjoong only nods, still eyeing the room with awe. 

“Okay, well um, goodnight.” Seonghwa cringes, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

He stops outside the door, taking a deep breath as the events of the day settle in. Hongjoong’s staying with him, and he doesn’t know when it will end, but he can’t help but feel appeased to know that even for a short period of time, he’ll be in the next room over, away from the biting wind and suffocating cold. 

He walks to his own room, the thought of whether or not Hongjoong is settling in well crossing through his mind as he gets ready for bed. Even just the thought that there’s another person in the house with him helps him fall asleep easier, sinking into his priceless bed that somehow feels even colder than he remembers. 

The next day, Seonghwa doesn’t see Hongjoong as he gets ready for work. He feels the urge to knock on his door, see if he’s awake, or even if he’s still there, but he doesn’t have a reason to beyond curiosity, so he walks down the stairs instead. He still doesn’t see him as he eats breakfast, and when he walks out the door he has to remind himself that he’s not supposed to care. He has his driver take him to work again, and he doesn’t know why he even tries to convince himself that it’s only a coincidence now that Hongjoong’s staying with him. 

The day passes uneventfully, his thoughts stray to Hongjoong and their recent development often, but he’s able to focus enough to be marginally productive. After his lunch break, when he just sat down and became immersed in his work again, he’s startled back out of it by his cell phone ringing, the sound piercing the silence in his office. 

“Hello?” He’s distracted when he answers, his free hand clicking at the keys.

“Seonghwa.” The voice makes him sit up straight on impulse, his heart beating faster in his chest. “I need to speak with you about something.” His dad’s voice screams business, detached and straight to the point. 

“Okay.” Seonghwa comes up empty handed when he tries to guess the occasion his dad would be calling him for. 

“I saw a couple concerning articles regarding you yesterday, and I wanted to ask you about the issue so we can resolve it before rumors spread further.” 

Seonghwa frowns, his confusion growing.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to…” Seonghwa racks his brain for the issue his dad could be talking about. 

“This morning I got news that you were seen talking to a police officer on the street yesterday. There’s another person with you, but they’re too blurred to see identifying features. Although I can tell from their clothes that they’re of… lesser stature, so I’m wondering what you were having to do with them.” 

Seonghwa’s heart drops. Hongjoong and their incident with the police officer had completely slipped his mind. He’s drenched in shame that he’d been so forgetful and careless with everything he’s been brought up to constantly be aware of. 

“That was just a little misunderstanding, and that conversation was just to clear it up. Nothing happened, and I’m not even sure who that person is, I haven’t seen them again since, just someone off the street. It was nothing, really.” The words taste rancid on Seonghwa’s tongue as he lies through his teeth, but he’s at a loss of what else to do in the unexpected situation. 

“Ah, I see. Well in that case I’ll take care of any rumors that spring up and make sure that all articles regarding this will be removed immediately.” His dad says, and Seonghwa can hear him typing as they speak, “Just remember my expectations for you, and the reputation we have to uphold at all times. Everything you do reflects back on me and my company.” 

“I know, it won’t happen again sir.” Seonghwa doesn’t know when he’d developed the habit of calling his dad by the formal name, but when he treats him like nothing more than another employee, he supposes he just adopted the role. 

He ends the call with his dad as soon as he can, itching to be out of the uncomfortable conversation. He feels out of it as he tries to get back to work, spending a majority of the remaining time he’s there lost in thought. 

His talk with his dad weighs on him as he rides home, the disapproval that had been heavy with every word that he said to Seonghwa. While his dad’s voice isn’t pleasant under the best of circumstances, his firm reprimanding tone unnerves him far more than the actual words he says. Seonghwa hates hearing it, and he’s reminded that he needs to be more careful in order to avoid it. 

When he gets home and heads up to his room, he’s glad to hear the soft noise of the tv filtering through from Hongjoong’s room. Before he loses his nerve, his dad’s voice in his head pushing him forward, he walks up and knocks on Hongjoong’s door. He hears the tv shut off and shuffling before the door swings open.

“Uh, hi.” Seonghwa shifts where he’s standing. 

“Hi?” Hongjoong tilts his head. 

“I have something to discuss with you, if that’s alright.” Seonghwa can feel his cheeks flush. 

“Okay.” 

“Here, follow me.” Seonghwa can function easier when he turns away from Hongjoong, leading him down the stairs and to the dining room table. 

It’s eerily remnant of their dinner together when they sit across from each other, the tense atmosphere similar. 

“I just wanted to talk about some sort of timeline for how long you think you’ll stay here for.” Seonghwa figures there’s no point in beating around the bush. 

“One night here and you’re already sick of me?” Hongjoong asks, on the edge of teasing.

“No, not at all, I just wanted to work out some sort of reference as far as a timeline goes.” Seonghwa tries to clarify. 

“Sure Mr. Business, if you need your space back I can be gone in an hour.” Hongjoong looks almost bored, unsurprised, and Seonghwa wonders how many times he’s had this conversation with others whose goal was to get him to leave. 

Seonghwa feels frustration bubble up, but for once it’s because of himself and his inability to communicate what he wants to get across, and not because of Hongjoong. 

“No! You can even stay for a month or two, it’s really not a problem, I’m just looking for some sort of plan, that’s all.” Seonghwa rushes to explain himself. Hongjoong may seem uncaring, but that doesn’t mean Seonghwa wants him to think he’s already trying to get rid of him.

Hongjoong still eyes him warily, “Okay.. Well my friend’s couch should be free again in about a month, and after that we won’t have to deal with each other anymore, is that fine?” 

“Okay, yeah that sounds good.” Seonghwa’s brow furrows at Hongjoong’s choice of words, but he lets it go. 

“Cool.” Hongjoong nods once before standing up from the table and retreating back to his room. 

_ Good talk.  _


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days of them coexisting are uncomfortable to say the least. Hongjoong flees the room every time Seonghwa enters, an unreadable expression on his face as he sometimes mumbles an excuse, and sometimes blatantly walks out. They don’t cross paths often, Seonghwa leaving early in the morning and working until late at night, but when they do, Seonghwa’s left with an empty sort of dissatisfaction that Hongjoong won’t even occupy the same space as him. 

On a night when Seonghwa gets home later than normal, he happens to catch Hongjoong walking down the stairs, and he jumps at the chance to talk to him about something he’s been meaning to. 

“Hey Hongjoong?” He calls, the other’s head turning. Hongjoong walks towards him until they’re both in front of the door, waiting silently for Seonghwa to continue. 

“Um, I’ve just been meaning to ask if you, uh, have a phone?” Seonghwa rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yes, I have a phone.” Hongjoong deadpans. “It’s not like I have  _ no  _ money at all.” 

“Right, of course. Well I wanted to ask if I could have your phone number?” 

Hongjoong stands still and stares at him, his eyebrows raised in suspicion. 

“I mean just in case there’s an emergency or I need to contact you for some reason.” Seonghwa says in defense of whatever thoughts ran through Hongjoong’s head. 

“Uh, okay.” Hongjoong holds a hand out, pausing until Seonghwa understands and hands him his own phone. Hongjoong types on it for a moment before he gives it back. 

“Anything else?” Hongjoong shoves his hands in his pockets. 

Seonghwa glances at the time, “Did you eat?” 

“Why do you care?” Hongjoong asks, his voice tight, and he walks away before Seonghwa can get another word in. 

  
  


Another few days go by with the same routine, the two of them engaged in a dance around each other to find tolerance. Seonghwa gets a sense of Hongjoong’s schedule, when he’s normally there and when he’s not. He knows he shouldn’t care, but that doesn’t stop him from taking notice of when Hongjoong walks through the door late at night, or when he hears the sounds of him bustling around his room in the morning before Seonghwa leaves. 

That’s why one night Seonghwa finds himself sitting on his large leather couch, the sky long darkened outside, confusion consuming him over the fact that Hongjoong still isn’t back yet. The younger has followed relatively the same pattern since coming to stay with him, so Seonghwa doesn’t think he can be blamed for being somewhat bothered that Hongjoong’s breaking that pattern all of a sudden. 

Seonghwa pulls his phone out, his thumb hovering over Hongjoong’s contact. He hasn’t touched it since Hongjoong typed his number into his phone, but he guesses now is as good a time as any. Deciding against calling him, he settles for texting.

[Are you coming back tonight?] He nibbles on his bottom lip when he sends it.

[What are you, my mom?] 

Seonghwa should’ve anticipated a similar response, but he can’t say it doesn’t sting.

[I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and didn’t get kidnapped or something.  I worry about you sometimes. ] Seonghwa omits the last part of the text before he sends it. He hadn’t even really meant to type it. 

[I’m fine, thanks.] 

Seonghwa figures that’s the closest thing to a genuine response he’ll get, so he accepts it. At least he knows he’s okay. 

Feeling too jittery to sleep, Seonghwa pockets his phone and heads to his office. He’s able to bury himself in work, passing the time until he hears the front door open late into the night. He wasn’t waiting up for Hongjoong to get home, but he does happen to be done with what he was working on. He shuts down his computer and steps out of the room, wandering towards the entryway. 

“Oh, you’re still awake.” Hongjoong mentions, his low tone not conveying his thoughts. 

There’s a pause while Seonghwa thinks of what to say, unsure of why he came over here in the first place. Hongjoong observes their surroundings, his mouth in a tight line as he shifts on his feet.

“Did you eat?” It’s the first thing Seonghwa can think of to say, but the question has been plaguing him lately. In all the days since Hongjoong started staying with him, he hasn’t seen him eat once. 

“No.” Hongjoong’s answer is clipped, but Seonghwa had expected to be shut down again, so he’s glad to get any sort of response.

However, the admission makes his stomach churn, “You should eat with me tomorrow. My chef usually makes too much food for me to finish by myself anyways.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow slightly, but Seonghwa can see the contemplation through the cracks in his mask of disinterest. 

“Fine.” He shrugs, and Seonghwa should honestly be used to him walking away mid conversation by now. 

True to his word, Hongjoong strolls into the kitchen the next night while Seonghwa waits at the bar for his food to be done. Hongjoong slides into a stool a couple away from Seonghwa, looking anywhere but at him. After a couple quiet minutes, Changmin places a plate down in front of each of them. Seonghwa takes a bite, appreciating the flavors that explode on his tongue, while Hongjoong dives in. Seonghwa almost cracks a smile, glad to see the frail boy eating a healthy meal. 

From then on, without exchanging words or voicing any agreements, Hongjoong joins him for dinner every night. It’s still silent between them for a majority of the time, but it’s not as uncomfortable as Seonghwa thinks it should be, and he can’t help but feel like Hongjoong’s offering him the slightest form of a truce. 

  
  


Seonghwa assumes that’s the extent of the interaction they’ll have while Hongjoong’s staying with him, so he’s surprised when Hongjoong approaches him one night when he gets home. Hongjoong seems hesitant, but determined, squaring his shoulders when Seonghwa notices him. 

“Everything okay?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I got a commission, and I need somewhere to do it.” Hongjoong states. 

“Oh, yeah sure, follow me.” Seonghwa hadn’t thought about Hongjoong needing a space to paint, but he has no shortage of available rooms.

He takes Hongjoong to an extra office, the room empty beyond a desk sat against the main wall across from the door. There’s a large window in the wall next to the desk, and Seonghwa watches as Hongjoong’s eyes are drawn towards it. 

Seonghwa’s house rests on an incline, meaning that the view outside the window is of the city, the bright lights shining through the darkness bathing the otherwise dark room in a golden glow. Hongjoong’s eyes sparkle as he looks at the view with his lips parted. Seonghwa feels just as captivated. 

“Is this okay?” Seonghwa asks. 

“It’s perfect.” Hongjoong’s voice is soft. He shakes his head, seeming to snap out of his trance, and he turns towards Seonghwa. “Uh, thank you.” 

Seonghwa nods, “Let me know if you need anything else. And just- try not to make a mess.” He eyes the spotless floors, cringing when he pictures dried paint crusting the polished surface.

“Don’t worry, I won’t mess up your pretty house.” Hongjoong answers, “Not like it matters when you have a maid.” He adds under his breath. 

Seonghwa ignores the comment and leaves the room. 

  
  


As far as Seonghwa can tell, Hongjoong spends all of his time in the office once he starts working on his painting. He sees the younger even less often than before, at dinner being one of the only times they interact most days, although the interactions are still limited. 

Days into Hongjoong’s project, Seonghwa finds himself sitting at the dining room table alone, Hongjoong’s plate growing cold. He pushes away from the table, walking towards what’s effectively become Hongjoong’s workshop. 

The door’s left open, and Seonghwa’s about to knock on the frame to announce his presence, but he freezes. Hongjoong’s standing in front of the canvas set on an easel, a paint brush in his hand and a palette on the desk next to him. The night sky through the wide window is silhouetting the canvas, the overhead light illuminating the colors on it. While the landscape coming to life through the paint is breathtaking, Seonghwa’s focus remains on Hongjoong. 

He moves with purpose as he applies every stroke to the canvas, his eyes wide and his body relaxed. Seonghwa can see the passion displayed in every methodical movement, the flow of color, lights and darks that Hongjoong knows exactly how to craft into something beautiful. 

The same happens to Hongjoong in turn, the paint that ends up splattered on his clothes and skin highlighting his authenticity. The rigid lines and stoic harshness that normally have a hold on him have fallen away as he paints, leaving raw vulnerability that Seonghwa admires more than the painting itself.

Mesmerized, Seonghwa takes a step forward, the floor creaking underneath his weight. Hongjoong’s head snaps up, and Seonghwa realizes he’d been staring at him for far too long. 

“Uh, I was just wondering if you were coming to dinner?” Seonghwa points over his shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah. Just got caught up in this.” Hongjoong explains, setting down his paintbrush and running a hand through his hair. 

“It’s really pretty.” Seonghwa gestures towards the canvas. 

“Thanks.” Hongjoong hints at a smile. 

Seonghwa feels satisfaction settle in his chest as he follows Hongjoong to the dining room. 

  
  


A couple more days go by, and Seonghwa finds himself looking forward to his and Hongjoong’s shared dinners. Tonight is no different, as Seonghwa sits across from Hongjoong, both of them picking happily at their food. Seonghwa notices that even after a short amount of time, Hongjoong looks healthier, his cheeks rounder and skin glowing brighter. 

“How was your day today?” Seonghwa has taken to asking Hongjoong the same question at every dinner.

“Good, the same, just painting.” Hongjoong shrugs. 

“How’s that going?” If there’s one thing Seonghwa can almost always get Hongjoong to open up about, it’s his art.    
  
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” Hongjoong pauses, Seonghwa humming in acknowledgement and giving him his full attention, “I thought I had enough paint left for the piece I’m working on, but I ran out and don’t have enough money for more. I was wondering if you’d be willing to loan me the money for it, and I’ll pay you back as soon as I get paid for the commission.” 

Hongjoong’s serious, formality and importance hanging on every one of his words, surprising Seonghwa, who thinks about the fact that the cost of paint is less than miniscule and inconsequential to him.

“Yeah, of course. I can even take you to get it.” Seonghwa suggests. 

“No, it’s okay, really, you don’t have to go to the trouble.” 

“It’s no trouble at all. Tomorrow’s Saturday anyways, I don’t need to go into work.” Seonghwa would normally work on Saturdays, often Sundays too, for lack of anything else to occupy his time, but it’s true that he doesn’t need to.

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asks.

“Definitely.” 

“Well, okay then I guess, thank you.” 

Seonghwa nods, and they go back to their food.

  
  


Considering they’ve been living together, Seonghwa thinks he shouldn’t be this nervous to go somewhere with Hongjoong, but that doesn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest when he walks down the stairs to meet him the next day. Hongjoong’s waiting for him by the front door, dressed in his signature ripped jeans, a black and white button up paired with them. 

Seonghwa almost misses the paint that’s absent from his clothes. Seonghwa’s wearing a mask and a hat pulled low over his eyes. He doesn’t want to risk getting recognized with Hongjoong again, fully aware that his dad wouldn’t approve. 

Seonghwa has his driver take them to the nearby art store. He’s never had a reason to go inside before, he used to think it was full of overpriced things used to make the same pretentious art over and over again. 

His eyes widen when they walk in side by side, and he takes in the sheer size of the store. Endless walls and shelves filled with so many products it makes his head spin. Hongjoong, on the other hand, seems right at home. He walks with confidence and knowledge, and Seonghwa has to rush to keep up with him. He can’t hold in an astonished chuckle when they walk through an aisle filled with paper and notebooks. 

“What’s so funny?” Hongjoong stops walking to turn towards him. 

“I just- this place is insane! I never knew there were  _ so  _ many art supplies. I mean seriously, who needs this many different types of paper!?” He gestures at the aisle in front of them.

Hongjoong  _ giggles,  _ the sound light and completely unexpected to Seonghwa. He’s never heard him laugh before. 

“Figures Mr. Business would have never come in here before,” Hongjoong teases “and the different types of paper are for different mediums, like this one is more rough, for-” 

Seonghwa smiles as Hongjoong goes through the types of paper, explaining what they’re used for. When he’s done, Seonghwa asks about the different pens and pencils, Hongjoong leading him through various aisles as he gladly explains. They end up near the paint, and Seonghwa listens intently as Hongjoong describes the types and why what he’s grabbing for his project is the best choice. Seonghwa watches the spark of joy that shines in Hongjoong’s eyes when he talks about his passion. 

While Seonghwa couldn’t care less about the different types of paper and paint, he continues to ask questions because he would listen to Hongjoong talk about it all day long, his excitement about the topic contagious.

When Hongjoong has what he needs, they make their way to the checkout. The price that shows after the paint is scanned makes Hongjoong wince and eye Seonghwa with guilt, but Seonghwa just smiles and swipes his card. To him, the amount is like loose change that he wouldn’t notice falling out of his pocket on the street. 

The whole drive back to Seonghwa’s house, Hongjoong tells him about what parts of his piece he’s going to use the paint for and how this is one of his best commissions yet. Seonghwa’s chest feels full as he listens, and thinks that this is the most Hongjoong’s talked to him since they met. Hongjoong scrambles straight to his workspace as soon as they arrive, and he stays there until late into the night. 

Using the paint he bought, Hongjoong is able to finish his commission. He mentions it to Seonghwa one night, asking him if he wants to see the finished product before he sells it. Seonghwa thinks it would be a shame not to, and he tells Hongjoong as much. 

“It’s beautiful.” Seonghwa tells him, the painting standing proudly on the easel, the room cleaned up around it. 

“Thank you.” Hongjoong looks down at his feet. 

The natural landscape laid out in paint is nearly picture perfect, the colors exact and precise. However, even with his lack of artistic knowledge, Seonghwa can identify a hint of something uniquely Hongjoong nestled in the rushing water and blue sky embedded on the canvas. Seonghwa feels more sad than he thought he would to see the painting go. 

  
  


Once Hongjoong sells the painting, his spirits seem lifted, his eyes shining a little brighter. He bounces up to Seonghwa when he gets home, standing in front of him with a hopeful look before the front door’s even fully closed.

“Everything okay?” Seonghwa asks, a small smile on his lips from Hongjoong’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask you something.” 

“Oh, okay.” Seonghwa answers, his curiosity piqued. 

“I was wondering if you’d go to dinner with me tonight.” 

Seonghwa blinks at him, the sudden and friendly request more than a little shocking to him. 

“To say thank you for helping me buy the paint. I wouldn’t have been able to finish without it.” Hongjoong clarifies. 

“Yeah, where do you want to go? I can have reservations made in-”

“Nope, I have a place in mind, no reservation needed.” Hongjoong cuts him off, puffing his chest out. 

“Okay, sounds good to me.” Seonghwa agrees, almost chuckling at how excited Hongjoong seems. 

They have Seonghwa’s driver take them to the restaurant, Hongjoong giving him the address. Seonghwa watches the city go by outside the window as they drive, until Hongjoong asks him how work’s going. It’s a rare occurrence for Hongjoong to initiate conversation so directly, and Seonghwa’s quick to respond. They exchange stories about their days, the car slowing to a stop sooner than Seonghwa wants it to. He doesn’t recognize where they are when he steps out, and he wonders just how far they drove while they talked. 

“Where are we?” He asks Hongjoong, voicing his curiosity.

“We’re near where I grew up.” 

Seonghwa’s eager to learn more about when Hongjoong was young and where he used to live, and he’s also relieved that he doesn’t have to wear a mask, confident that he shouldn’t be recognized this far out of the city.

The building is small and worn, and Seonghwa eyes it warily. It’s not a place he’d ever choose to eat at on his own. He has to keep from wiping his hand off on his pants when he opens the door for Hongjoong. The inside is warm, the atmosphere welcoming and the decor holding an antique charm. The sounds of people chatting and silverware scraping plates fills the space, the smell of home cooked food making Seonghwa’s mouth water despite his hesitation. 

“Ah, Hongjoong! I was wondering when you’d come see us again.” A small woman greets them with a smile, wrinkles etched into her face and grey hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head. She pulls Hongjoong into a tight hug before leaning back and turning towards Seonghwa. 

“And who’s this?” She asks, raising her hands towards him. While he’d expected it, Seonghwa is still stunned by how strange it is for Hongjoong to be recognized in public but not him. 

It’s a startlingly pleasant feeling, to be treated with the same genuine care as anyone else who would walk through the door, instead of the manufactured politeness he’s used to being met with. 

“He’s a friend.” Hongjoong giggles in response to the woman’s question. 

Seonghwa doesn't know if Hongjoong means it or if it's a convenient explanation of their relationship, but the thought of Hongjoong seeing him as his friend instills an odd happiness in him. 

“Seonghwa, this is Heejin. I’ve known her almost my whole life.” Hongjoong introduces, interrupting Seonghwa’s thoughts. 

“Yes, I watched him grow into this handsome man.” Heejin pinches Hongjoong’s cheeks. He swats her away with a smile. 

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Seonghwa offers a small bow to Heejin. 

“Of course, any friend of Hongjoong’s is always welcome here.” She steps forward and pulls Seonghwa into a hug as she had Hongjoong. 

After recovering from the shock of the gesture, Seonghwa timidly returns the hug, his arms around Heejin’s small frame. It’s foreign to him, given he can’t remember the last time someone hugged him, but the touch is warm, kind, and Seonghwa misses it as soon as it’s over. 

“Now come on, you two must be starving.” Heejin shows them to a table towards the back of the restaurant, soft music playing through the speakers. 

“So what made you decide to come see me again after so long?” Heejin asks Hongjoong as she hands them each a menu. 

“I just got paid for a commission.” Hongjoong tells her, and he explains the painting he’d finished. 

“Hongjoong has so much talent,” Heejin directs the comment towards Seonghwa, “I remember when he’d draw on our menus, on napkins, anything he could get his hands on, really. He’s always had a gift.” Heejin smiles at the memory. 

Seonghwa pictures a young Hongjoong, full of dreams and life, the need to create so strong he’d draw on anything and everything. He feels himself mirror Heejin’s smile. He only wishes Hongjoong could’ve had every opportunity to chase his dreams the way he deserves to. 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough.” Hongjoong mutters, and Seonghwa doesn’t miss the light pink dusting his cheeks. 

“I’ll have Youngjae take care of you for the rest of the night, but make sure you say goodbye before you leave, and don’t be a stranger!” Heejin introduces the smiling waiter next to her. Seonghwa and Hongjoong smile and nod as she walks away.

Youngjae leaves them to choose what they want to eat, bringing them their drinks while they decide. Seonghwa looks over the menu, noticing the lack of small, expensive portion sizes, million different courses, and unpronounceable names of dishes. Everything looks appetizing, and he ends up having to have Hongjoong recommend his favorites. Once their food is ordered, they talk lightly, Seonghwa feeling more relaxed than he can remember feeling at any of the restaurants he frequents back in the city.

The food is even more delicious than Seonghwa imagined, and he stifles a moan around the first bite. It doesn’t have the refined sophistication that he’s used to from restaurants, but the bold flavors and devotion that shows through every ingredient more than makes up for it. He sees the pleased smirk on Hongjoong’s face when he clearly enjoys the food. They eat for a couple more quiet minutes before Seonghwa speaks up.

“Heejin seems sweet.” He looks over to where the small woman is greeting another guest at the door with a wide smile and open arms. 

“Yeah, she is,” Hongjoong smiles, “she’s been like my mom since my parents decided I wasn’t worth their time.”

“Well I’m really glad you had her.” Seonghwa pauses, “And it’s their loss.” He adds, so quiet he wonders if Hongjoong heard him, but the touched look in the younger’s eyes tells him he did. 

“Seonghwa, can I ask you something?” Hongjoong looks down at his plate. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“I just, you care about me enough to help me, and I can see that you’re a caring person, so why do you put up with hurting people through the work you do? I know about the things your dad’s company does, and you go along with it. Why don’t you care enough to stop?” 

Hongjoong’s voice is matter of fact, more genuinely curious than angry or accusing, but his words still dig into Seonghwa painfully. 

“I don’t want to excuse it, but it was how I was raised.” Seonghwa pokes at the food on his plate, “It’s what I’ve always been taught to do, it was the only option for me since I was born.” 

Hongjoong nods along while he talks, his mouth pulled down in a slight frown. 

“My dad never cared to show me any affection, but he always made sure to teach me how to be a part of his business. Now I’m constantly expected to uphold the image he chooses, and defend his company, and there’s not really anything I can do about it.” He shrugs, “I guess I’m saying it’s all I’ve ever known.” 

“You’re right, it doesn’t excuse it,” Hongjoong comments, “but thank you for telling me.” He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. 

Silence falls over them, Seonghwa contemplating Hongjoong’s words. Being directly faced with the consequences of what he does for a living hurts, but the fear of going against his dad has always overridden it. 

“Oh yeah, before I forget,” Hongjoong distracts him from his thoughts, reaching down to rustle in his pocket, “here.” He hands a blank white envelope to Seonghwa. 

“What’s this?” Seonghwa peeks inside the envelope and sees a couple bills.

“It’s the money I owe you for the paint.” 

Seonghwa looks at the envelope one more time, and glances up at Hongjoong. He extends the envelope back to him, “Keep it.” 

“What? No.” Hongjoong tries to push it towards Seonghwa, who doesn’t budge. 

“I don’t need it, and you deserve it way more than I do.” Seonghwa insists. 

“Trust me, I know you don’t need it, but I need to keep my word.”

“Hongjoong, I know how long that painting took. I saw how hard you worked to get this, and you did an amazing job. You deserve it, just keep it. Please.” Seonghwa looks at him with wide eyes. 

Hongjoong pauses to look back at him, before he sighs in defeat. “Fine.” 

Seonghwa hands him back the envelope, feeling triumphant. Hongjoong rolls his eyes at him, but Seonghwa can see the small smile he’s trying to hide. Hongjoong pockets the money again and they work on finishing what’s left of their food.

When Youngjae drops off their check with a smile, Seonghwa reaches for it, but Hongjoong’s faster, grabbing it and holding it out of his reach. 

“Nope, I’m paying.” Hongjoong tells him.

“Hongjoong, you shouldn’t, I can pay, it’s really not a problem.” 

“You already wouldn’t let me pay you back for the paint, so I’m definitely paying. Let me do this, just this once, please.” Hongjoong pleads, a slight pout on his lips. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa backs off, “thank you.” 

Hongjoong smiles proudly, wider than Seonghwa’s ever seen. He knows the younger doesn’t have much money, so the gesture of him being so adamant about treating Seonghwa, especially as a thank you for some paint, is touching to him. 

Seonghwa feels light as he stands with Hongjoong, and they say goodbye to Heejin before they leave the restaurant. She hugs them both again, and Seonghwa finds himself wondering how soon he’ll be able to come back to visit. 

“Thank you for bringing me there tonight.” Seonghwa says to Hongjoong on the drive home.

“Thank you for letting me.” Hongjoong smiles. 

Seonghwa thinks it’s the best night he’s had in a long time. 


	4. Chapter 4

Seonghwa mulls over his conversation with Hongjoong more and more in the days after their dinner. It replays in his head while he’s at work, when he’s faced with decisions and responsibilities that he would normally never think twice about. He does his best to make more morally conscious choices while still benefiting the company, but it doesn’t keep his dad’s name from showing up on his cell phone on a busy day. He backs away from his desk as he answers the call. 

“Hello.” 

“Seonghwa, I wanted to get in touch with you regarding your account.” His dad’s voice is tight. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’ve noticed some discrepancies lately, you’ve had significantly lower performance. I want to know what’s causing this issue.” 

Seonghwa’s chest feels tight, suddenly reduced to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no issue. I’ve been distracted lately, but I’ll be sure to do better.” Seonghwa doesn’t want to tell his dad that he’s uncomfortable contributing to the business in ways that directly harm less fortunate people, even though it’s hard to avoid in his line of work. 

“You better. I’d hate to have to take more drastic measures to ensure our success.” The words are rigid, and Seonghwa has no doubt that he’d follow through on them if he had to. He gulps. 

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” Seonghwa would say anything to get out of the conversation. He sighs in relief when his dad ends the call without any more fuss, but it still leaves him uneasy. 

He pushes it out of his mind, focusing on finishing the work day. When he gets home, finding Hongjoong in his office and seeing the newest painting he’s working on, he all but forgets that his dad called him in the first place. 

  
  


A couple days later, they’re sitting at the dining room table, one of Hongjoong’s favorite meals that Seonghwa had requested for Changmin to make in front of them. The pair had migrated towards each other over time, and now they’re in the habit of sitting side by side at dinner. 

“So, I guess I’ll get my stuff packed and be out of your hair in the next couple of days.” Hongjoong interrupts the comfortable silence between them as they eat. 

Hongjoong doesn’t have many clothes or possessions, but while he’s been staying with Seonghwa he’d gathered what he does have from his friends and collected it in either his room or his office. Seonghwa feels the words douse him in cold, and he frowns, wondering what he did to make Hongjoong want to leave. 

Hongjoong must notice his reaction, “Because it’s been over a month, and my friend’s couch is free again.” 

Seonghwa had completely forgotten about their previous agreement, but it comes back to him, the fear he’d felt after his dad called him the first time. Now, after talking to him again, his dad is watching him more closely than ever, but the thought of Hongjoong packing up what little he owns and leaving to sleep on a couch instead of a comfortable bed takes priority over pleasing his dad. He’ll just be careful and keep him off his back. 

“Stay.” Seonghwa says. 

Hongjoong pauses mid bite, looking at him in shock.

“What?” 

“Stay until you can support yourself and you don’t have to couch surf anymore.” Seonghwa clarifies. 

“Seonghwa, I- I have no idea when that would be or how long it’ll take, I’ve been trying for years, and who knows how much longer it’ll be before I-”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa cuts off his rant, Hongjoong looking at him, clearly flustered, “I know, I don’t care how long it takes. It doesn’t matter, it’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay.” Hongjoong sets his utensils down on the table, “I don’t want to stay here, letting you pay for everything for me without me doing anything for you, knowing you just feel guilty, or like you owe me something.” 

Seonghwa pauses, considering Hongjoong’s words. Does he only want him here so he doesn’t have guilt hanging over him? While it’s true that knowing he sent Hongjoong back out on his own without a home would weigh on his mind, it takes only a minute of Seonghwa thinking more deeply about what Hongjoong said to understand that it’s not the reason he doesn’t want him to go. 

“You’re right, I felt bad before, and I felt like I owed you, that’s true. But if I didn’t enjoy your company, I would just let you leave when we agreed.” Seonghwa starts, “But I want you to stay because I like spending time with you, and that time we spend together is more than enough to repay any money I spend on you.” 

Hongjoong looks less than convinced, and Seonghwa presses on. 

“I like watching you paint, and I like that you’re so passionate about it. I like that you’re not afraid to call me out on my bullshit, and you’re always honest with me. I feel like I can be myself around you, not who my dad and the public expects me to be. I like learning more about you, I like talking to you, and you actually listen to me when I do.” 

He pauses, and Hongjoong’s eyes are flooded with surprised warmth.

“So yes, I do want you to stay. Not because I owe you something, but because I like you, I care about you, and I want to help you until you’re able to take care of yourself.” 

Hongjoong looks over him, searches him for any sign of dishonesty. 

“Okay, so maybe you’re not _as_ much of a shitty person as I thought you were.” Hongjoong teases with a smile. 

Seonghwa can’t help but chuckle, Hongjoong doing the same. They turn back to their meal, but the smile on Seonghwa’s face doesn’t fall away, their new agreement for Hongjoong to stay without a specified end date hanging in the air. 

  
  


Hongjoong gets another commission, and he works on it almost all hours of every day. More often than not Seonghwa has to fetch him from the office and remind him to eat. Also more often than not Seonghwa will get fascinated by watching Hongjoong paint before he knocks on the door frame. Seonghwa goes through the motions of his own work, as mundane as ever, but he watches Hongjoong throw himself into his project, realizing that he does that for every single one.

Days into the project, Seonghwa’s sitting in his own office, his screen bright in front of him. He’s been trying to work for the past hour, but his mind keeps wandering to Hongjoong locked inside his workspace, putting every ounce of passion into what he's doing. He’s been working so hard, and Seonghwa can’t shake the feeling that he deserves something special. 

He pushes away from his desk, an idea popping into his head. 

He lets Changmin know that he won’t need him tonight before he heads to the kitchen. He pulls out his phone, standing in the middle of the wide space, the island in front of him. Thinking through the different dishes he remembers Hongjoong saying he likes, he decides on one he thinks would be doable for him to cook. 

He finds a recipe, sifting through the cupboards and fridge in search of the ingredients listed. He didn’t even know he had any of these things, Sohyun and Changmin taking care of his shopping. He has to hunt through countless more cupboards to find the many different utensils and cookware he needs. Once he has everything gathered, he starts going through the steps in the recipe. 

Thirty minutes later, Seonghwa’s certain that this was a terrible idea. The kitchen is filled with heat and smoke, endless smells swirling, everything louder and messier than he ever remembers it being when Changmin cooks. He’d never known how hard cooking good meals is, and people who do it for a living make it look effortless. Seonghwa’s standing in front of the countless pots and pans on the stove, his hair a mess, and his clothes covered in nearly every ingredient, when Hongjoong walks in the kitchen.

“Hey I thought I smelled something burning, so I came to check on-” He stops when he sees the state that Seonghwa is in, “Uh, whatcha doin?” 

“I just wanted to make you dinner, since you’ve been working so hard, but fuck- this isn’t easy.” Seonghwa runs yet another hand through his hair. 

Hongjoong’s eyes widen, and Seonghwa realizes he’s never cursed around him before. Once Hongjoong shakes off his shock, he giggles, stepping closer to Seonghwa. 

“That’s sweet,” he leans over to look at the various ingredients, “but is it supposed to smell like that?” 

“Hey, I’m doing my best here.” Seonghwa pouts.

“I know, I know. What if I help you? I think we can salvage it.” 

“But I’m supposed to be cooking for you though.” Seonghwa argues.

“Well it’s still fun if we do it together.” Hongjoong assures him. 

“If you say so…” Seonghwa trusts him, but he also has no other choice but to let him help if he doesn’t want what he’s done so far to end in total disaster. At least Hongjoong’s getting out of the four walls of his office for a little while. 

Hongjoong rolls his sleeves up and takes over, giving Seoghwa less vital but still helpful tasks to do while he works. The expansive kitchen provides more than enough space for the two of them to navigate comfortably, working with the sounds of searing and bubbling filling the silence. Hongjoong seems confident in his movements, and the end product looks comparable to the picture on Seonghwa’s phone. 

Even though he didn’t make it completely by himself, Seonghwa feels proud as they sit down at the dining table with the finished dishes in front of them. He supposes making it with Hongjoong was more pleasant than what he’d planned anyways. When he takes a bite, he can tell some things are off, most likely from what he’d done before Hongjoong stepped in, but the knowledge that they’d made it themselves makes it the best tasting thing he’s ever eaten. 

“So where’d you learn to cook so well?” Seonghwa asks, humming around another bite. 

“I guess I picked up little things here and there,” Hongjoong shrugs, “I had to take care of myself most of the time, and when I was on my own I learned a lot from Heejin.” 

Seonghwa’s heart drops at the mention of Hongjoong being on his own, knowing the reason he had to be, but he reminds himself to focus on right now instead. 

“Well I’m grateful, thanks for saving the meal.” Seonghwa chuckles.

“It was my pleasure, it’s been a long time since I actually cooked anything.” Hongjoong smiles. 

“We should do it more often, maybe you can teach me until I can cook a whole meal on my own.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Hongjoong agrees. 

They eat the rest of their food, and only then does it dawn on Seonghwa how much chaos is created from cooking, and that it needs to be cleaned up. Hongjoong seems to pick up on his train of thought as they carry their empty dishes to the sink, looking at the mess around them. 

“Let me go get Sohyun to-”

“Nuh uh, we made it, we clean it up.” Hongjoong states firmly. 

Seonghwa’s about to argue more, but Hongjoong moves before he can, turning on the water and scrubbing at the dishes. Seonghwa sighs, starting to collect the trash on the counters. Once the counters are clear and wiped off, he helps Hongjoong finish the dishes. They talk while they work, Hongjoong flicking him with the water every so often and making him laugh. Seonghwa never knew cleaning could be so enjoyable, or cooking for that matter. 

Hongjoong goes straight back to his painting when they’re done cleaning, and Seonghwa decides that while he thoroughly enjoyed tonight, he’ll have to come up with another nice thing to do for Hongjoong. He deserves it. 

  
  


After searching for something additional he could do for Hongjoong for days, Seonghwa finds the perfect opportunity in an advertisement for the most prestigious art museum in the city. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before, it’s perfect. 

He tells Hongjoong he wants to take him somewhere on a night that he doesn’t need to work late, making sure Hongjoong’s free, and Hongjoong agrees with excited skepticism. When the night comes, Seonghwa pulls on a black suit, putting more effort into looking nice than he normally does. He’d told Hongjoong to do the same, but refused to tell him where he’s taking him no matter how many times he asked. 

He waits by the front door for Hongjoong, his breath hitching when the younger walks down the stairs. He’s wearing black slacks and a black button up, both of which Seonghwa’s never seen on him before, his blue hair styled. Seonghwa eyes him up and down, impressed with how well he cleans up, although he can’t help but miss his usual paint stained look. 

“Ready to go?” Seonghwa asks, opening the door for Hongjoong when he nods. 

Hongjoong seems almost giddy in his seat for the drive, buzzing with curiosity about where they’re going. When they pull into the parking lot, the driver bringing the car to a stop, Hongjoong’s eyes grow wide, his mouth hanging open. 

“No fucking way!” He stares up at the building when they step out of the car. 

“You like it?” 

“Are you kidding? I’ve only wanted to go here for forever!” Hongjoong turns towards Seonghwa, “I never thought I’d get the chance, this is amazing!” 

“Well come on then.” Seonghwa smiles at Hongjoong’s enthusiasm, waving towards the building. 

Seonghwa pays for their entry, hushing Hongjoong who winces when he sees the price. Luckily there aren’t too many people; Seonghwa had decided not to wear a mask, choosing to deal with his dad if he gets word of him being out with Hongjoong again, but he’d rather nobody recognized him in the first place. 

They explore in silence at first, Hongjoong looking at every piece of art with unbridled awe. He gasps at some, hums at others, taking the time to examine every one like it’s the last he’ll see. There’s a bounce in his step as he flits from piece to piece like a kid in a candy store, and Seonghwa chuckles as he trails after him. 

There’s one piece that Hongjoong looks up at for longer than the others. It’s a painting on a canvas as large as the wall, and Hongjoong seems captivated. Seonghwa stares at it, his head tilted, but the only thing he feels is uncertainty. 

“I don’t know...” Seonghwa frowns. 

“Don’t know what?” Hongjoong tears his eyes away from the painting to look at him. 

“I guess I just- I don’t get it.” 

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong turns to face him fully. 

“Just this whole-” he gestures vaguely at the painting, “-modern art thing.” 

“What don’t you get?” Hongjoong’s voice is full of confusion, like he can’t fathom not being as utterly fascinated by the artwork as he is. 

Seonghwa looks at the painting again. It’s composed of random colors and shapes mashed together, no real subject or object visible in it. “This isn’t even a real painting of anything. Why is it so impressive, can’t anyone do that? Like, why is it even considered art?” Seonghwa doesn’t want to sound insensitive or ignorant, but it’s something he’s never understood and always wondered about. He can’t think of a better person to ask about it than Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong takes a second to think before he answers, “Art is about expression. It’s about interpretation, about conveying the artists’ emotions and sparking emotion in the audience. It’s about what the painting makes you feel. Anybody can make art, yes, but there’s no one to say what can and can’t be art. It’s subjective, it’s unique, and that’s what makes it beautiful.” 

Hongjoong looks back at the painting and Seonghwa watches him while he talks. Hongjoong’s eyes scan over the canvas, taking in every line and every color. The fascination he pours into his words is touching, the clear love for art that shines through whenever he talks about it. Seonghwa would stand there all night if it meant he could keep listening to him. 

As he looks at Hongjoong observe the painting, his eyes sparkling with pure joy, his pink lips turned up in a small smile, Seonghwa melts, washed over by a wave of realization; Hongjoong is beautiful. In the way that he lights up when he cares about something, or becomes a storm of strength and determination when he needs to, inside and out, Hongjoong is beautiful.

He doesn’t have time to wonder what he should do with this realization, Hongjoong finally getting his fill of this painting and pulling him on to the next one. Seonghwa goes willingly, with no doubt that he would follow Hongjoong anywhere. 

Hongjoong smiles the whole drive home, his energy lower, but his spirits still just as high. They don’t talk as they walk into Seonghwa’s house and up the stairs, stopping in the hallway between their two rooms. 

“Thank you so much for tonight.” Hongjoong says, looking up at him.

“You’re welcome, I’m really glad you liked it.” Seonghwa’s voice is quiet. 

They look at each other for another moment, neither talking. Seonghwa almost doesn’t remember what Hongjoong’s face looked like when he was cold and closed off from him. Maybe that’s why he never realized that he’s breathtaking, the most priceless piece of art. He wants Hongjoong to know exactly that.

“Goodnight Seonghwa.” The moment slips away. 

“Goodnight Hongjoong.” 

They part slowly, walking separate ways to their rooms. That night, Seonghwa dreams of Hongjoong bathed in vibrant color. 


	5. Chapter 5

Seonghwa groans when it’s announced that his company is throwing another party. He’s always hated them, spending the duration bored and having to put on a fake front. They’re always held at prestigious locations, hundreds of coworkers and clients crowded into the stuffy space, overpriced cocktails handed out. 

While on one hand he wants to save Hongjoong from the affair, and he could just leave him to paint, on the other hand he wants to take the younger with him, thinking maybe he could make it tolerable, maybe they could even have a little bit of fun. 

He's sure that dressed up, no one will be able to recognize Hongjoong as the boy from the picture with the cop. Eventually his selfishness wins out, and he knocks on the doorframe to Hongjoong’s office before walking in and introducing the idea to him. 

“You… want me to come with you to a company party? You know I hate your company and they hate me, right?” Hongjoong looks at him, his tone flat. 

“No, I know, I hate going too, but I have to be there, and it would be so much more fun if you came with me.” Seonghwa tries not to whine. 

“Well I’m flattered.” Hongjoong teases. 

“So you’ll go?” 

“I don’t know…” Hongjoong trails off.

“Please?” Seonghwa knows he’s giving Hongjoong puppy dog eyes, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“I guess so.” Hongjoong relents. 

“Thank you! I promise we’ll have even a little bit of fun.” Seonghwa grins. 

The night of the party, Hongjoong tells Seonghwa he doesn’t know what to wear. He ends up in what he’d worn to the art museum, but Seonghwa pulls him into his closet to find a suit jacket to accompany his button up. He starts searching through his coats, discussing which ones would work best. There’s a lack of response, and Seonghwa turns to see that Hongjoong’s still standing in the doorway, his jaw on the floor. 

“This is actually insane.” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa can feel the tips of his ears heat up. 

“Yeah I guess. Now come here and help me pick a jacket out.” Seonghwa tries to change the subject. 

Instead, Hongjoong circles the large closet, inspecting his vast amounts of shoes, pants, shirts and jackets. He lifts a hand to rub the soft fur of one of his thick coats between his fingers. 

“Seriously though, who needs this many clothes?” 

“I guess  _ I  _ do.” Seonghwa shrugs. He’s grateful when Hongjoong lets the topic drop. 

Hongjoong looks as good as he had the night they went to the art museum when they’re dropped off at the party venue. The jacket they’d found compliments the rest of his outfit, his makeup light, but enough to highlight his pretty features. Now, Seonghwa understands why his heart flutters in his chest when he looks at Hongjoong. 

The party is in full swing when they walk in, the lights bright and decor just as expensive as ever. Seonghwa takes Hongjoong around his normal rounds, greeting those who he has an obligation to talk to while he’s here. He notices people’s eyes following them, his own glancing up to Hongjoong’s blue hair, realizing it’s the only unnaturally colored hair in the room. It fills him with a sense of pride, to be by the side of the only one brave enough to be different. 

“Everyone’s staring at me.” Hongjoong whispers, noticing the same thing as Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s own eyes have been glued to the younger since they left the house, Hongjoong’s glowing features and radiant smile all but demanding attention, his blue hair adding to his undeniable charm. Seonghwa can’t say he doesn’t understand why everybody’s staring.

“I don’t blame them.” 

While it’s what he’s thinking, he doesn’t mean to voice it, his recently revealed attraction to Hongjoong meant to stay between him and his thoughts, but he  _ has  _ been staring along with the rest of them. 

Hongjoong’s eyes dull with an emotion Seonghwa can’t identify as he narrows them at him, and Seonghwa’s about to ask him about the strange look when they’re interrupted by a coworker whose name Seonghwa doesn't remember. 

The night progresses the same way, the two of them getting roped into endless conversations. Each one starts with a sickly sweet greeting, smiles that are too wide and fake happiness to see the other party laced into their polite words. Nonetheless, they listen quietly while the rest of the group discusses work, their vacation plans, and banal complaints. 

It’s all routine for Seonghwa, nothing he hasn’t heard before, and he spends the duration wondering how he can come up with an excuse for him and Hongjoong to take their leave and find a more lively area of the party. He finally finds an opening, and he pulls Hongjoong away. 

“So, do you want to get a drink?” Seonghwa asks as they walk through the crowd. 

Hongjoong tugs on his arm, bringing them both to a sudden stop. 

“No, Seonghwa, I think I want to go.” His mouth and eyebrows are pulled down when Seonghwa turns towards him, and Seonghwa’s heart drops. 

“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa is genuinely bewildered as to what could’ve upset Hongjoong so deeply. 

“Are you serious? Are you really that detached that you can’t tell?” Hongjoong raises his voice, taking a step towards Seonghwa. Seonghwa can see heads starting to turn their way, and he grabs Hongjoong’s arm, leading him out of the building into the cold night. 

“Yeah sure, wouldn’t want to ruin your precious reputation.” Hongjoong spits. 

When they’re outside, the wind biting at Seonghwa’s skin, he faces Hongjoong with his pulse racing.

“Will you please tell me what the hell you’re so upset about?”

“I don’t belong here, Seonghwa!” Hongjoong yells, “I’m not part of this world, and I don’t want to be. Everyone here is pretentious, stuck up, and selfish. They stare at me like a zoo animal because I don’t look exactly like them. All they do is complain about their private jets and summer houses, like there aren’t people out there who won’t eat tonight!” Hongjoong’s chest is heaving. 

“So that’s what you think of me too, then?” Seonghwa snaps, “I’m just some stuck up asshole to you?” 

“Don’t act like you’re not in the same line of work as every single one of them, just as removed from the problems of real people as they are.” 

“I honestly can’t believe you still see me like that.” Seonghwa feels the sting seep into him.

“Please, you said it yourself, you can’t blame them for staring. You know I’m different, you know I don’t belong, and you think I’m less than you, just like they do.”

Seonghwa freezes, any response dying on his tongue. He never thought about how his comment could’ve been taken so wrong, “Hongjoong, I- I didn’t-”

“No, I don’t care about your excuses.” Hongjoong cuts him off, “I told you I didn’t want to come tonight.” He bites, “You never should’ve brought me here.” 

It’s been a long time since Hongjoong stormed off from a fight between them, and the ache cuts deeper and deeper every time Seonghwa’s left alone, anger and regret buzzing through his veins.

He wants to chase after Hongjoong, but he gets the feeling that it would just make things worse. He lets him have his space, climbing into his car and riding back to the house on his own, but that doesn’t stop him from staying up until Hongjoong comes home safely late into the night. 

  
  


Seonghwa goes through the motions for days, working at all hours, leaving and getting home when it’s dark. Hongjoong stops joining him for dinner, and beyond missing his presence, Seonghwa worries that without his meals the younger isn’t eating at all. He texts him and asks, but he’s met with silence. 

He goes through options of ways to make it up to Hongjoong but nothing seems adequate; flowers, chocolate, jewelry. None of it would mean anything to Hongjoong as a guilty gift. The idea for forgiveness hits Seonghwa when he walks past Hongjoong’s empty office, the easel standing alone in the dark. He goes straight to his computer, researching what to get him. He orders it the same night, and it arrives only a couple days later. 

He props it up against a wall in the living room, texting Hongjoong that he has something for him and praying he doesn’t ignore him. Seonghwa looks at the painting he’d bought; it’s a rare, authentic piece, beautiful even to Seonghwa, who doesn’t know the first thing about impressive art. It’s one of a kind, similar to the paintings at the art museum that had brought Hongjoong so much joy. It’s perfect. 

He’s relieved when he hears Hongjoong’s soft footsteps come down the stairs, walking into the living room and stopping. Seonghwa turns towards him, takes in his rough appearance and frowns before he remembers that he’s there to mend things. 

“You said you have something for me?” Hongjoong’s voice is missing all of its warmth. 

“Yeah, come here.” Seonghwa walks over to the painting. 

Hongjoong’s straight face turns to shock when he walks farther in the room and sees what’s waiting for him. 

“Is that- really what I think it is?” Hongjoong asks, reaching a hand out to touch the painting but stopping himself. 

“Yeah, it is, and it’s authentic. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the party.” Seonghwa looks away from Hongjoong as he talks, waiting for his response. 

“Seonghwa, I… this is beautiful, but I- I can’t even imagine how much it cost.” Hongjoong’s words are not what Seonghwa expected.

“It doesn’t matter,” Seonghwa says, his confusion growing, “it’s special, and I really thought you’d like it.” 

“Yeah, I know it’s special, and that’s the problem. That’s  _ way  _ too much money, you’re still not getting it. If you really wanted to make a gesture to me you would make it meaningful, not by buying something with money that could be used to help so many people.” Hongjoong sounds more disappointed than anything, and that almost hurts more than any amount of anger. 

“I’m sorry, I just, I really thought you were starting to understand, but I guess I was wrong.” Hongjoong adds. His tone is gentle, and Seonghwa finds himself wishing he felt that familiar burning annoyance and rage rather than cold discouragement as Hongjoong retreats back to his room, the sound of the door closing echoing through the house. 

Seonghwa’s left completely appalled, everything Hongjoong said coming out of nowhere and hitting him in the face, effectively biting him in the ass. He’d been trying to fix things, but he somehow managed to make them worse. He sighs.

Hongjoong not just telling him what he wants to hear and being real with him is one of the first things that appealed to Seonghwa, but right now it’s overshadowed by the frustration bubbling up inside him that Hongjoong can’t be grateful and accept his peace offering. 

His irritation only multiplies with every day that goes by without the tension between him and Hongjoong being resolved. He hates the hostility between them that makes it seem like all the closeness they developed in the past few weeks has been washed away and replaced with their past animosity. 

If he didn’t know how to make it up to Hongjoong before, he’s left falling through the darkness now. He’d used up his only idea, had been so sure that it would work flawlessly, only to have it blow up in his face. His unknowing how to fix things between them leads to him growing more frustrated and desperate, which drives Hongjoong further from him. It’s an infuriating cycle. 

He’s sitting in his office, the night ticking by, but he’s too worked up to get anything done. He’s been running over what happened with him and Hongjoong on repeat, wondering where exactly things went wrong and why he can’t come up with a way to fix it. Hongjoong wants him to understand the point he’s trying to make, or some lesson he’s trying to teach him. 

Obviously he doesn’t want people to suffer, he knows that, why doesn’t Hongjoong know that? It’s not his fault his coworkers are shallow, and he’d only wanted to buy him a nice gift as a simple apology. Why can’t he seem to fix it? 

Aware that sitting and staring blankly at his screen that’s long gone black in front of him isn’t going to be productive, he shoves away from his desk, standing and stalking to his room. He’s planning to change into something more comfortable, figuring maybe he can at least pretend to relax. When he steps in his closet and switches on the light, it’s like a switch flips in his head. 

_ “Seriously though, who needs this many clothes?” _

That’s it. He  _ doesn’t  _ need this many clothes. He can’t shove it in Hongjoong’s face like some insincere gesture, but he knows donating some of them is something the younger would appreciate, and it feels like the right thing to do. 

The problem, as he starts combing through his extensive wardrobe, is that he really doesn’t know what clothes he  _ does  _ need. He has so many, and he doesn’t even know where most of them came from. He doesn’t know what kind of clothes charities are looking for, or what he should even consider giving away. He’s never done anything like this before, and it makes his head spin.  __

He remembers the way Hongjoong had looked at him, like he was a stranger, like he was a monster, and he tears a jacket off of it’s hanger and tosses it on the floor. If he can’t decide, he’ll just give away everything. He knows others need it more, and he can always get new clothes later. It’ll be for a good cause. He pushes a small cushioned chair out of the way, knowing that the scraping is too loud for how late it is, but he can’t find it in his frantic mind to care. 

He goes through the shelves, pulling out pants and shirts and making a donation pile in the middle of the closet that ends up as more of a pool of fabric, but he doesn’t think it needs to be particularly organized to be donated. Every article of clothing that ends up on the ground only serves to encourage his frenzied state, and he tugs off his suit jacket when it gets too hot, adding it to the pile along with the rest. 

He thought he’d feel better for doing this, but all he can think about is the utter disappointment in Hongjoong’s eyes when he upset him, and then went on and made it worse. His closet starts emptying, but the only thing he feels is empty along with it. He knows he must look like a disaster, grasping an expensive jacket in his hands, his shirt disheveled, sleeves shoved up his arms and hair tangled, and when Hongjoong walks into the closet with a perplexed frown, Seonghwa thinks he really needs to stop letting the younger find him like this. 

“Uh, I heard a lot of noise and just wanted to see if you were okay.” Hongjoong says. 

Seonghwa pauses, not thinking Hongjoong would care enough to come check on him, “Oh… yeah, I’m fine.” He tells him, standing in the middle of his closet that looks like a tornado went through it, his extravagant clothes strewn over every surface. 

Hongjoong chuckles, and it’s the first positive sign Seonghwa’s seen from him in days, “You don’t exactly look it,” he teases, “what are you doing?” 

Seonghwa sighs, his shoulders sagging, “I’m just really trying to understand what you were saying. I thought the painting was a good idea, but it wasn’t, and I just really hate things being like this between us. I thought I could donate my clothes because you’re right, I don’t need them, but I don’t know how or what clothes to donate, so I thought I’d donate all of them because I really want things to be fixed between us, and I just want to do  _ something  _ right.” He’s breathing heavily when he finishes his rant.

He expects Hongjoong to laugh at him, or yell at him some more, but when Seonghwa looks at him there’s a small smile on his face, his eyes soft. 

“I think it’s a really nice idea,” Hongjoong steps towards Seonghwa, gently taking the jacket he’s holding from his hands, “but that doesn’t mean you have to get rid of  _ everything. _ ” 

“But I-”

“How about I help you?” Hongjoong interrupts him, his voice light. Seonghwa nods, taking a deep breath to rid himself of his built up panic.

They sit down next to each other in the wreckage of Seonghwa’s closet, going through every piece of clothing. Hongjoong asks him if he really wears and needs each one, urging him to think deeper when he automatically answers yes every time at first. Seonghwa finds that he has a lot of clothes that he never touches, that have been sitting and collecting dust for years.

Hongjoong helps him organize the chaos, putting the things he does want to keep back where they belong and folding what’s to be donated. They also stumble across different things that Seonghwa had all but forgotten he owns. He has more casual clothes than he thought, seeing as how he always sticks to slacks and a button up. 

“Wow, how come you never wear any of this stuff!?” Hongjoong holds up a dark grey and blue silk shirt. 

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never had a reason to.” Seonghwa shrugs, folding a pair of pants, one that he has three others that are identical. 

“I bet it looks really good on you.” Hongjoong comments. Seonghwa smiles and looks down at his lap, a blush on his cheeks.

They get through the mountain of clothes, only a few more remaining. Hongjoong picks up one of the last ones; a large fluffy black sweater. 

“This is so soft!” Hongjoong cries. Seonghwa chuckles at his glee. 

He’s debating how weird it would be to tell Hongjoong he can keep it when the younger slips it onto a hanger, putting it away and stepping back. 

“Well I think that’s the last of it.” He nods, looking around them at their work. 

“Thank you for helping me.” Seonghwa tells him. 

“Thank you for wanting to do it.” 

“Also I sold the painting the night after I showed it to you, and I want to donate the money to a charity, any one you choose.” Seonghwa had gotten rid of the painting out of spite, but he’s glad he did, the decision to donate the money from it now seeming obvious.

He’s sure of his choice, but it’s solidified even further when Hongjoong grins at him, pretty white teeth on display, his heart beating faster at the sight. To make matters worse, Hongjoong steps forward and wraps his arms around him. Seonghwa freezes, while Hongjoong rests his head against his chest. He hesitantly brings his arms around the younger, before melting into the embrace. 

Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time anybody’s hugged him beyond Heejin’s brief embrace, but the warmth that flows through him is so much more than his lack of affection. It’s the faint scent of vanilla that wafts off of Hongjoong, the way he fits perfectly against Seonghwa, the hum that he lets out when Seonghwa hugs him back, and the knowledge that Hongjoong wanted the tender touch. Seonghwa’s body sings with satisfaction and affection as he pulls Hongjoong more firmly against him. 

“You’re a good person, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong whispers. It’s more gratifying than any praise Seonghwa’s ever gotten from his dad for staying in line, and more rewarding than any paycheck. 


	6. Chapter 6

Things go back to normal after that night, Seonghwa gets the clothes donated, and they leave their fight behind. Hongjoong starts joining him for breakfast as well as dinner, the conversation always lively and never lacking. Seonghwa finds himself staying home on Saturdays and Sundays, some days spending time with Hongjoong and some spent lounging around on his own, something he’d never allowed himself before. He also comes home before the sun sets more often than not. It’s a new routine for him, and it’s different from what he’s always known, but it’s a more than welcome change. 

He enjoys lazy Saturday nights more and more each week, but that doesn’t stop him from being intrigued and looking forward to whatever Hongjoong has planned when he tells Seonghwa he wants to show him something on a Saturday evening. He decides to dress more casually for the occasion, settling on dark jeans and a leather jacket over his white button up. He doesn’t miss the appreciative look Hongjoong gives him when they meet downstairs to leave, and he notices a backpack hanging over the younger’s shoulders. 

Hongjoong declines Seonghwa’s offer to have his driver take them wherever they’re going, telling him instead that they’re going to walk and that it’s not far. The air is cool when it meets them, its winter bite fading away. It’s a gorgeous night, the sky streaked with yellows and reds. Seonghwa wishes he could see Hongjoong paint it. 

“So… where are we going?” Seonghwa asks, delighted when Hongjoong giggles.

“I would say I’m not telling you for the hundredth time, but we’re almost there anyways.” Hongjoong stops walking and turns towards Seonghwa, “I want to show you my work.” 

“Uh, but I’ve already seen it, haven’t I?” Seonghwa gestures back in the direction of his house where Hongjoong’s easel is still standing in his office. 

“Nope, that’s just what other people want me to do,” there’s a glint in Hongjoong’s eyes, a smile on his lips, “come on, I’ll show you.” He grabs Seonghwa’s hand and tugs him along. 

Seonghwa understands even less when Hongjoong leads him down an alleyway, walking between and behind various buildings. 

“This is it.” Hongjoong announces, bringing them to a stop. He turns towards the brick wall in front of them, and Seonghwa does the same. 

He gasps, his eyes widening. There’s a large painting sprayed onto the surface of the wall, abstract and colorful and astonishing. It’s composed of fluid lines, bold and bright against the bleak brick. It screams emotion and passion, and Seonghwa’s left in pure awe, his chest feeling tight.

“You… you did this?” He asks, his mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, it’s something I do when I get the chance.” Hongjoong answers.

“But, you don’t get money from doing it though, do you?” 

“No, I don’t,” Hongjoong agrees, “but I love doing it. It’s one of the only times I get to paint what I want to, what I really feel.” 

“It’s… gorgeous.” Seonghwa tells him, his words full of authenticity. Hongjoong looks pleased and proud, which Seonghwa thinks is more than deserved, “but I just, I still feel like I don’t get it.” Seonghwa remembers what Hongjoong told him at the museum, but he still isn’t able to put a meaning to the colors and shapes. 

Hongjoong giggles again, “You’re cute.” He smiles, and Seonghwa’s ears heat, “It’s one of my favorite pieces that I’ve done. It represents how I felt when my parents disowned me. The loss and loneliness, but also the determination to keep going, to be happy and keep doing what I love despite them.” 

Seonghwa looks at the painting again. He takes in every piece, and he thinks he can see some of what Hongjoong is talking about, the way different moods and feelings are mixed together throughout in a combination of purposeful light and dark, the raw feeling that comes through the paint weighing heavily on him. 

“I love it.” He says, his voice coming out softer than he means for it to. 

“I’m really glad.” Hongjoong smiles. 

They both observe Hongjoong’s painting for another minute before the younger speaks up again.

“You should try.” 

“Huh?” Seonghwa turns towards him. 

“You should paint something.” Hongjoong slides his backpack off and digs around inside, pulling out cans of spray paint and gesturing towards a blank space on the wall. 

Seonghwa takes a step back, “Oh, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” While the thought of being able to express himself when he’s never really gotten the luxury to before is tempting, he thinks this would probably be one of the least effective ways to do it.

“Why not? What do you have to lose?” Hongjoong goads, extending the paint out to him again. 

“I don’t know, my dignity?” 

Hongjoong smiles, amusement in his eyes, “Come on, just give it a try, and if you hate it you don’t have to do it anymore.” 

“Okay, I guess.” Seonghwa takes the spray paint from him, the can feeling cold and foreign in his hand. 

He steps up to the wall, looking back at Hongjoong over his shoulder, who urges him forward encouragingly. The empty wall towers over him, taunting him with space that he doesn’t know how to fill. He hesitantly sprays a dot onto the brick, the paint running slightly, and he checks himself to make sure none of it ran onto his skin or clothes. He pauses, his mind empty and limbs frozen. 

“You need to loosen up.” Hongjoong steps up next to him, “Here, take this off.” He grabs the spray paint from Seonghwa and pushes his jacket off his shoulders, removing it completely and tucking it safely into his backpack.

Seonghwa expects him to give the can back, but instead he faces him, paint still in his hand and a thoughtful look on his face as his eyes run up and down Seonghwa. 

In one smooth swipe of his arm, Hongjoong paints a bright stripe over Seonghwa’s shirt. Seonghwa jumps in shock, staring down at the paint seeping into his shirt and sticking to his skin. 

“What the hell Joong!? Do you know how much this shirt cost?” Seonghwa yelps. 

“Do you know how much money you have?” Hongjoong counters, not backing down from Seonghwa’s outburst. 

Seonghwa frowns, unable to argue with Hongjoong’s point, but still displeased.

“I’m trying to show you that it’s  _ okay  _ to get dirty sometimes. Don’t worry about the mess, and don’t think so much. It’s about expressing yourself, so don’t hold back, just  _ feel. _ ” Hongjoong looks at him with so much hope and confidence that it makes Seonghwa’s head feel light. 

Seonghwa can only nod as he takes the paint back from him. 

Hongjoong steps back, and Seonghwa faces the wall again, taking note of the different colors of paint that Hongjoong placed on the ground next to him.

He takes a deep breath, and paints. He lets himself feel everything he never had; the abandonment from both his mom and dad, the pressure crushing him from the weight of working under his dad’s company, the isolation he’s been trapped in his whole life. As he paints, his thoughts shift to Hongjoong, to the life he’s breathed into him, the lessons he’s taught him and how he makes him want to be a better person. 

He steps back when he’s done, laying the spray paint down on the ground. Colors are splattered over his clothes and skin, but he doesn’t mind, especially when he looks at what he created. It’s not good, by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s real, and sparked by his true emotions. It’s unique to him, and it let him feel in a way he’s never experienced before. He thinks it’s beautiful. 

Hongjoong thinks so too, if the way he’s beaming at him is anything to go by. “Seonghwa, that was amazing!” His hands end up on Seonghwa’s shoulders, paint on him too, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the least. 

“It looks like shit, but it felt amazing!” Seonghwa agrees. Hongjoong’s eyes are bright, a wide grin stuck on his face. He’s glowing, proud and gorgeous, his blue hair wild and clothes paint splattered. “All thanks to you.” Seonghwa whispers.

Seonghwa feels like he’s flying, his heart racing and blood pumping in his ears. He can’t help but glance down, Hongjoong’s lips full and inviting and  _ so  _ close. He wants to know how they feel, wants to see what Hongjoong looks like when he’s kissed breathless. Seonghwa’s defenses were swept away by the elation and tide of emotion that overtook him while he painted, leaving nothing to stop him as he brings his hands up to Hongjoong’s cheeks, and in a rush of euphoria he presses their lips together. 

Hongjoong stills with a surprised gasp, sounding as shocked as Seonghwa feels before the younger wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s waist, pushing their lips and chests more firmly together, and all doubts flee, taking rational thought with them. 

Seonghwa feels like he’s swimming through lava, slow as his lips slot against Hongjoong’s, sighing into his mouth, hot as he ignites with boiling want and exhilaration. Every sensation is heightened as one of his hands slides back to tangle in Hongjoong’s hair and the other cups his jaw. Hongjoong’s hands fist the back of his shirt, and Seonghwa knows paint is being spread between them, but neither of them care, only pressing closer to taste and feel more of the other. 

Seonghwa’s heart feels full to bursting, every beat of it calling out for more of Hongjoong. He’s nestled himself under Seonghwa’s ribs with no plans of letting him breathe anything but him, so Seonghwa takes what oxygen he needs from Hongjoong’s hot breath in his mouth. Everything falls away but the addicting press of Hongjoong’s lips and the swipe of his tongue. 

Seonghwa eventually pulls back, his head dizzy as they both pant, still holding onto each other tightly. A grin spreads across Hongjoong’s face, and Seonghwa reflects it, his twisted emotions finally untangling. Hongjoong is what he’s always needed, and in Seonghwa’s arms is where he’s always belonged. 

“You’re beautiful.” Seonghwa breathes every ounce of truth into the two words that are at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Hongjoong, his pink lips spit slick and his cheeks flushed red. 

“And you’re wonderful.” Hongjoong looks into his eyes, deep and golden. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

Seonghwa could cry with the joy that lodges a lump in his throat, and as they pack up their things and walk back to the house, he thinks that it would no longer be a home to him without Hongjoong in it. 

  
  


Once they get home, they’re each in desperate need of a shower, paint dried and peeling on their skin. Seonghwa is overcome with the urge to offer Hongjoong to share his shower with him, his own far more spacious and luxurious than the guest bathrooms’, but he stops himself in fear of pushing things too far too fast. 

Instead, he leaves the open ended offer for Hongjoong to raid his closet for comfortable clothes if he wants before he all but forgets about the suggestion when he steps into the shower. He lets the hot water rush over his skin, relaxing his muscles, the events of the day passing through his head, leaving him in disbelief and worry that this is all a dream and he’ll wake up alone in his bed. 

However, he knows he could never imagine the way it had felt to kiss Hongjoong, and he can’t help but smile like a love sick idiot, bringing his fingers up to brush over his still tingling lips. The last thought he has before he climbs out of the shower is that even the steaming water running over him pales in comparison to the warmth of being in Hongjoong’s arms. 

  
  


He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before padding down the stairs and to the living room, sitting on the large plush couch and scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t wait long before he hears Hongjoong’s quiet footsteps approaching. He locks his phone and looks up to greet the younger, and he feels his insides turn to jelly. 

Hongjoong had taken Seonghwa’s offer to borrow his clothes, a pair of his sweatpants hanging low on the younger’s hips, and the black sweater that Hongjoong had commented on when they went through Seonghwa’s closet together is draped over his small frame. He’s all but drowning in the fluffy fabric, his hair damp, and Seonghwa’s sure that his heart won’t survive.

Hongjoong walks forward and sits on the couch next to him. Seonghwa wants nothing more than to hold onto him and never let go, but his rumbling stomach reminds him that now’s not the time. 

“So what do you want to do for dinner?” Seonghwa asks once he’s over the devastation of only the tips of Hongjoong’s fingers poking out from the sleeves of the sweater. 

“Hm.. I was thinking maybe we could get takeout?” 

In the months that Hongjoong’s lived with him, they’ve never eaten takeout. Seonghwa can’t even remember the last time he has in general. He never had a reason to, Changmin always taking care of his meals, and he figured it’s healthier that way anyways. However, now, with Hongjoong soft and comfy and begging to be cuddled, nothing sounds more perfect than bundling up on the couch with takeout and a movie. 

“That sounds perfect, baby.”

The pet name slips past Seonghwa’s lips without him meaning for it to, and when Hongjoong’s eyes widen he has an apology ready, but then Hongjoong breaks out in a smile and captures Seonghwa’s lips with his own. 

Once they’re able to tear themselves away from each other and the addicting newness of being able to touch and kiss whenever the urge arises, they manage to order their food. It arrives soon after, and Seonghwa lays it on the coffee table in front of them. It’s enough to feed three times the two of them, but Seonghwa wanted Hongjoong to have everything he craved and more. The delectable smell makes Seonghwa’s mouth water, and Hongjoong seems to feel the same, both of them diving into the food with vigor. 

They play a random movie on Netflix, neither of them really paying attention, but the quiet background noise and soft light is soothing while they eat. Hongjoong insists on feeding Seonghwa throughout the meal, leading him to return the favor, and as they go through the endless dishes, Seonghwa almost can’t believe that Hongjoong had been so frail and underfed when they met. It makes his stomach twist in knots, but he loosens them by feeding Hongjoong another bite, comforted when the younger accepts easily and hums at the taste.

When they’re both too full to eat anything more, Seonghwa stands to throw away the trash and put the leftovers in the fridge before he returns to the couch, grabbing a large fluffy blanket on his way back. Hongjoong turns towards him when he sits down, and Seonghwa opens his arms for him to curl against him. Hongjoong’s arms wind tight around Seonghwa’s waist, and Seonghwa wraps his arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

Hongjoong lays over Seonghwa, tucking his nose under his jaw, and Seonghwa lets out a sigh of pure bliss. He throws the blanket over them before he shuffles down further, tightening his hold on Hongjoong and letting the weight of the smaller boy soothe him even further. The tv is still washing light over them, and Seonghwa’s head feels fuzzy with comfort. 

Seonghwa couldn’t keep from drifting off if he tried, and instead he lets himself be tugged under the waves of sleep, with Hongjoong’s heart beating against his and his soft breaths on his neck.


	7. Chapter 7

Seonghwa blinks awake, disorientation clouding his mind as he catches up with his surroundings. The first thing he sees is Hongjoong pressed against him, snoring quietly and still holding onto him. Seonghwa smiles, brushing a stray piece of faded blue hair out of his face. He wonders if the younger will want to dye it again soon, and he makes a mental note to ask him later. 

The events of the day before drench him in searing warmth, the way the sun shines over a winter frost, its heat too intense to resist. However, his peaceful recollection is harshly interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone. He groans, the soft blanket and Hongjoong’s arms begging him to burrow in deeper and chase sleep again, but his phone is incessant, Hongjoong’s face scrunching in annoyance. 

With a sigh, he carefully untangles himself from Hongjoong, making sure to place a pillow under his head and tuck the blanket around him, unable to resist pressing his lips to the younger’s forehead before he searches for his phone. 

Once he finds it, he sees multiple missed calls from his dad, and his blood runs cold. He doesn’t have time to think about what could be so dire this early in the morning, his dad’s contact popping up on the screen again. He checks that Hongjoong is still sleeping soundly before walking into a nearby room and closing the door. He stares at his screen again, and with a gulp, he accepts the call. 

“Hello, sir.” He tries to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Seonghwa, I would like you to tell me exactly what you think you’re doing.” His dad’s voice is piercing ice, sharp and enraged. 

“I- I don’t understand.” Seonghwa’s heart is pounding, his hands clammy. 

“You know, I always had my doubts that you’d be able to uphold my company, you’ve always been so… soft. But then you showed promise for years, you hardened into a man, and I saw a future for you that’s worthy of my son.” His dad’s voice lowers, impossibly dark, “Now, I see how truly weak you are.” 

Seonghwa’s ears are ringing, the sting of his dad’s words cutting his lungs and stealing his breath. His dad doesn’t wait for his response. 

“I’d hoped that hiring that investigator would prove unnecessary, but then he found out that you’d actually let that blue haired homeless nobody  _ live  _ with you, and I knew I’d have to take more drastic measures. I was willing to make a deal with you, until I got a call this morning that my investigator saw you defacing property with him, and, god forbid,  _ kissing  _ the rat. My son, living with trash,  _ and  _ ending up gay? I couldn’t have gone more wrong.” His dad scoffs, his words without hesitation, like he’s not tearing down every ounce of self worth Seonghwa’s managed to build up with Hongjoong’s help. 

“Say whatever you want about me, but don’t you  _ dare  _ insult him.” Seonghwa growls. 

“Well, good to see you have some fight in you. If only you were fighting for something that’s worth it.” 

“He  _ is _ worth it.” Seonghwa’s response is instant, without thought, but firm. 

“You really think that homeless scum is worth anything?” 

“Say another word about him and I swear to god I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Seonghwa? Do tell. I shouldn’t need to remind you that I control your career, your image, your future. You’re nothing without me.” His dad taunts, smug and mocking with an arrogance that makes Seonghwa’s skin crawl. 

Seonghwa wants to refute his words, wants to tell him that he worked hard for what he has, with or without him, but his voice is caught in his throat, doubt wrapped around his erratic heart and biting his tongue.

“How about this for a deal,” His dad presses on, voice dripping with acidity, “If you continue to live in this delusion, be a disgrace to our family and my company, and rebel against everything I’ve given to you, then I’ll have no choice but to cut you off. You’ll be fired, disowned, shamed in the public’s eye and by everyone you’ve ever known, and I’ll personally ensure that no one will even think about hiring you again. But,” He pauses, “if you throw the homeless boy back to the streets where he belongs, find a nice girl, and start being somebody worthy of being my son, then I’ll be gracious enough to give you a second chance at immense success. The choice is yours.” 

Seonghwa feels numb, like there’s no ground underneath him and no air for him to breathe. 

“I’m giving you the opportunity to have everything and more, Seonghwa, don’t throw it away.”

Seonghwa can only sutter, fighting with himself between what he wants and what his dad is telling him. He considers the possibility that he’s right. As much as it hurts, as much as Seonghwa wishes he could keep Hongjoong with him, there’s only one way to make his dad proud and be successful. 

The raging war tears through his muscles, shatters his bones and shreds his skin, leaving a bloody battlefield in the aftermath of his decision. He recites his choice to his dad without hearing himself talk before he ends the call and walks back to Hongjoong in a daze, a mere shell of himself. 

Seonghwa sits down next to Hongjoong on the couch, the younger blinking up at him.

“Everything okay?” Hongjoong mumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong, his honey eyes drooping closed and face lax, still snuggled under the fluffy blanket and swimming in Seonghwa’s soft sweater. He cups one of Hongjoong’s cheeks, his thumb running over the smooth skin before he captures Hongjoong’s lips with his own one more time, feeling every inch of them, committing the feeling to memory. Hongjoong is safe, warm, home, and Seonghwa forces himself to pull back before he can’t anymore. 

He feels a tear stream down his cheek, and any traces of sleep vanish from Hongjoong’s features, his eyes screaming alarm. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Hongjoong sits up to face him, the blanket pooling in his lap. 

Another tear falls, and Seonghwa feels like he’s splitting apart by his very atoms. 

“You… you have to move out. By tonight.” 

Hongjoong stares at him, his face completely blank. 

“What- I don’t- what are you saying?” Disbelief stains his every word. Seonghwa can’t believe what he’s saying either. 

Seonghwa feels himself slip into the detached, unfeeling professionalism he has to use so often in his line of work, it’s the only way he can get through the conversation without tearing himself apart completely, “You have the rest of today to get your stuff and leave. I’m sorry.” 

“But- Seonghwa I really don’t understand. What happened? Who was that on the phone?” Hongjoong eyes him with suspicion.

Seonghwa doesn’t see the point in lying to Hongjoong, the least he deserves is the truth. “It was my dad. He- he hired a private investigator to follow me, and he saw me kissing you. He told me if I don’t make you leave he would disown me, he would shame me and make sure I never have a job again.” Saying the words out loud makes them feel all too real, and a wave of nausea washes over him. 

“Well I can get a real job, and then I’ll have more money… and we can just not go out in public together.” 

Hongjoong’s tone is masked in a layer of pure rationality, and Seonghwa knows the true weight his words hold. Hongjoong had been abandoned by his own parents because he wouldn’t give up what he loves for a more secure job. He’d become homeless and lost everything to protect his passion, and now he’s willing to give it up to be with Seonghwa. 

The magnitude of the realization hits Seonghwa directly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and refusing to return it. He’s choked with the thought that Hongjoong shouldn’t have to abandon what he’s always worked so hard for, especially not for someone as undeserving as Seonghwa, who’s forever tied to his dad and his company’s expectations.

“I… it won’t work. My dad won’t let up on keeping an eye on me, and he’ll know.”

“So let him know then,” Hongjoong’s eyes harden, the avid fighter refusing to back down that Seonghwa became so well acquainted with when he first met the younger returning full force, “It’s not like he owns all your money, you worked for it and you’ll still have it if he cuts you off from everything else. Fuck him, don’t let him scare you into compliance.” 

Seonghwa feels tendrils of hope creep into him, but he shoves them down. Hongjoong would be better off without him holding him back anyways, free to do what he loves, and Seonghwa can maintain his responsibilities, keep his family and the only career he’s ever known. 

He shakes his head, “I can’t just give up everything that matters.”

“Come on, I know your work doesn’t matter to you, it’s not something that you’re passionate about.” Hongjoong pushes. 

“Don’t act like you know what matters to me.” Seonghwa barks.

“I thought  _ I _ mattered to you, but I guess I was wrong. Turns out you’re exactly how I thought you were before I met you.” The bite in Hongjoong’s voice makes Seonghwa wince, and the accusation cuts deep into him, into everything he’s ever tried to be. 

“That’s not true, I thought you could see that I’m more than that. You do matter to me-” Hongjoong cuts him off with a scoff, driving frustration into Seonghwa. “You _do_ matter to me, but that doesn’t mean I can just abandon my dad and my career.” 

Hongjoong wrenches the blanket off of his lap and stands, staring down at Seonghwa with fire in his eyes. Seonghwa stands to face him. 

“Why? Why do you owe him anything? Because he’s your dad? He raised you into a corrupt career and lifestyle that I  _ know  _ doesn’t make you happy. You could be your own person and do what does make you happy, but instead you’re just going to let him manipulate you.” Hongjoong pauses, “And now you’re becoming just like him.”

Seonghwa ignores the automatic urge to disagree.

“Well maybe that’s a good thing. He taught me to work hard, he knows what’s best for me.”

“Your dad doesn’t give a shit about you!” Hongjoong cries. 

“He cares about my future, he wants me to be successful.” Seonghwa feels resolution overtake him, determination to stick to his decision following. 

“What future? All I see is the future of a lonely coward.” Seonghwa’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging crescents into his palms, and Hongjoong’s tone shifts from fury to mock consideration, “You know, you think you’re some sort of savior for helping me, but I think I saved you just as much, and I don’t mean pushing you out of the way of that car.”

Hongjoong’s words make Seonghwa still. He’d forgotten that happened, it feels like a lifetime ago, but he never thought about how much Hongjoong saved him after that day. He won’t even begin to deny that Hongjoong is right; he showed him how to feel, how to express himself, how to love. But the lessons are over. 

Hongjoong speaks up again in Seonghwa’s thought induced silence, “Don’t let him make this choice for you, don’t throw away your freedom.” 

“I’m making my own choice.” Seonghwa counters. His dad only needed to give him a push in the logical direction. 

“So you’re just choosing to throw me out then?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.

“No, That’s not- that’s not what I meant, I have to uphold the company image. I can’t be seen with a man, or with someone of such lower… stature.” 

Hongjoong takes a step back, his eyes blown wide with shock and anger, hurt painted on his features.

“So that’s really what you think of me? Lower than you?” 

“Of course I don’t, but my dad does.” Seonghwa huffs, frustrated that Hongjoong’s twisting his words into something he should know isn’t true.

“You’re the one who said it, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong’s voice is tight, his words sharp and clipped. 

“You just, you don’t understand.” Seonghwa tries.

“No, actually I understand more than anybody. I had to make the same decision as you. I’m happy with my choice, will you be?” Hongjoong stares into Seonghwa like he can see his every doubt. 

Seonghwa feels his resolve break until it’s hanging on by a thread, but he can’t forget his dad’s voice in his head reminding him of everything he has to lose, and he holds onto the anger crashing through him, allows it to dig its claws into his heart, the feeling prompting his words. 

“Please, you’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“What do you mean making this harder than it has to be? Is kicking me out supposed to be easy for you? I thought I meant more to you than some lowlife you can throw away.” Hongjoong spits.

“You know that’s not what I meant. You still mean a lot to me, you just- you have to go, I really am sorry.” Seonghwa feels like every second this goes on his heart shatters all over again.

“Stop with the apologies, you aren’t sorry Seonghwa, you’re making this choice. You don’t just throw out somebody that matters to you.” 

Seonghwa feels white hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he blinks them away. “I am sorry, but this is the way it has to be, so just get your stuff and go. Please.” 

“So that’s it then?” Hongjoong’s voice falls devoid of emotion, the caring Hongjoong Seonghwa came to know fading away. 

Seonghwa welcomes the numbness that settles in him. It makes it bearable.

“I can give you some money, if you need.” The idea is Seonghwa’s last consolation, the only thing he has left to offer, the rest of him stripped bare and empty.

Hongjoong’s face twists into cold acceptance, “Keep your money.” He turns away, storming up the stairs and towards his room. 

Seonghwa sighs, runs a shaky hand through his hair, and stalks after him. He pushes open Hongjoong’s cracked door, chest tightening until it threatens to snap at the sight of the younger ripping his belongings off shelves and out of drawers, shoving them in a tattered duffel bag. 

Seonghwa pulls out his wallet, grabbing all of the cash inside and holding it out towards Hongjoong. “Please, just take the money.”

“I don’t want it. I won’t give you the satisfaction of making yourself feel better.” Hongjoong doesn’t even glance towards him. 

Seonghwa falls silent, watching as Hongjoong packs away what little he has to call his own. He feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest, tucked away in Hongjoong’s bag for him to take with him. 

“Hongjoong, I really am sorry.” It’s the one thing that Seonghwa needs for Hongjoong to understand. 

Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa’s sweater off, replacing it with his own old sweatshirt. “I told you, I don’t want your apologies. Save them for the next person you fuck over.” He throws Seonghwa’s sweater at him, hitting him in the chest before it drops to the ground. 

Hongjoong yanks the zipper on his bag closed and grabs it, shoving past Seonghwa to walk back down the stairs. Seonghwa can’t speak or think, can’t act beyond trailing after Hongjoong again. 

Hongjoong steps to the front door and pulls his shoes on. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, and the stiff lines of his shoulders fall into defeat. He turns his head to look at Seonghwa, the tears filling his eyes the last nail in the coffin that is Seonghwa’s composure. 

“I thought I loved you, Seonghwa.” 

His voice is filled with every emotion Seonghwa never wants to let himself feel again, and Hongjoong walks out the door. 


	8. Chapter 8

Seonghwa stares at the heavy door long after its closing stops echoing against the walls, waiting for Hongjoong’s words to stop echoing against his skull. He doesn’t know how much time passes before he turns, and walks up the stairs and to his room. He calls Changmin, takes a shower, pulls on a suit, and eats breakfast at the dining room table. 

As his driver takes him to work he stares at the blurring world outside the window without seeing any of it. He walks in the building, greets the receptionist, and takes the elevator to his floor. Sitting down at this desk, he welcomes the onslaught of work that he’s met with. It’s nothing short of a relief to bury himself under every task and refuse to resurface. 

  
  


Seonghwa throws every part of himself into his work. He forgoes eating most meals to stay at work longer, and he only goes home when the closing building forces him to. When he  _ is _ home, he holes up in his room, laying in his bed without sleeping. It’s a routine that serves to keep him occupied, and the days blend together in a haze of exhaustion and words smeared across his computer screen. When he finally thinks to check the date, it’s been two weeks since Hongjoong left, but it feels like no time has passed.

Seonghwa resigns himself to this being his life, with no deviations or variations, until he gets a call from his driver while he’s working one day, everyone else already gone from the office. His driver tells him that he has an urgent family emergency and won’t be able to drive Seonghwa home tonight. He offers his sincerest apologies, and Seonghwa assures him that it’s okay, he’s able to walk home. 

Once he leaves, the darkness hangs over him like a heavy reminder of how long it's been since he’s seen the sun. It feels fitting. The wind whips through his hair and nips at his skin as he trudges along, paying it no mind. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, his head as empty as the empty feeling that made its home in his chest.

He doesn’t realize his eyes were straying with his thoughts until they catch on something that steals his breath. He’s standing in front of a park, staring down the bench that he’d found Hongjoong lying on. 

That night Hongjoong had gone home with him, had been safe, had a warm bed to curl into. Now, Seonghwa’s going to a desolate house, Hongjoong god knows where, holding Seonghwa’s home with him. He’d walked out, and Seonghwa had forced his steps. Seonghwa tears himself away from the park before him and storms the rest of the way to his house. 

After declining dinner again, he climbs the stairs, ready to lay in bed and pretend to forget. He walks towards his room, but freezes, drawn towards something he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice before. The door to  Hongjoong’s the office is cracked open, shadows thrown around the room. His feet float over the floor, carrying him to the room on their own. 

He pushes the door open, mind flashing back to the first time he saw Hongjoong painting, accompanied by the shining night sky, light pouring over the art that was him and his canvas. He remembers the way he’d been captivated by watching Hongjoong paint, the talent and love and passion he exuded with every breath. 

Now, he’s met with suffocating darkness, the easel standing in solitude, abandoned and alone. Seonghwa steps towards it, expecting a blank slate but surprised to see colors already on the canvas. He gets closer, his heart constricting when he sees the unfinished painting. 

It’s not a commission, like he’d assumed, instead it’s the sky. It’s Hongjoong’s view out the window in the office, light and dark blues showered in shimmering lights, sparkling against the dark paint. It looks even more beautiful than when Seonghwa looks out the window himself, seeing it through Hongjoong’s artistic eye and his paintbrush. It almost feels wrong to look at the painting, knowing he shattered the trust that Hongjoong gave him, how open about his passion he was with him.

If Seonghwa lets himself feel now, he’s drowned in regret, confusion, guilt, and every emotion twists into a searing anger that spreads white hot to his fingertips. Those moments are gone, it’s his fault Hongjoong is gone. The once beautiful view has dimmed in Seonghwa’s eyes, and it’s never coming back. 

His head cloudy with anger, veins buzzing with fury, Seonghwa grips the side of the easel and wrenches it aside, tossing it to the ground with a clang. His chest heaves, his ears ringing. The painting lies on the ground, deserted the way Seonghwa is, the way Hongjoong was. 

The anger lingers as he leaves the room, rescinding his previous answer and requesting for Changmin to make him dinner for the first time in days, the hunger making his hands tremble. He sits down when his meal is ready, absentmindedly taking a bite. It feels like something snaps. He calls Changmin into the dining room.

“What the hell is this?” Seonghwa asks him as he stands in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry sir, is there something wrong?” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking burnt.” Seonghwa barks. 

“I’m really sorry sir, I’ll remake it for you right now.” Changmin moves to take the plate from in front of him. 

“It’s fine, just leave it.” Seonghwa swats his hand away. “Just make it right next time, since that’s what I pay you for.” 

Changmin scrambles back to the kitchen with a bow and another apology. Fuming, Seonghwa takes another few bites of his food before he sets his utensils down, his nonexistent appetite even further removed. He stands and carries his plate to the kitchen, where Sohyun is almost done cleaning the mess from dinner. When she sees him come in she takes the dish from his hands, immediately going to the sink to rinse it off. Seonghwa pauses as she scrubs over it. 

“Hey! Be a little more careful, that’s not fucking cheap. If you even crack it it’s coming out of your paycheck.” He snaps. 

Her eyes blow wide and she nods silently, movements becoming hesitant and slow. He feels shame pinch at him, and he has an apology on his tongue, but the anger choking his throat doesn’t let it through. 

“But I still expect it to be spotless.” He adds, at least managing to calm his tone before he storms out of the kitchen. 

  
  


For days, all Seonghwa can see is red. He seethes his way through life, ignoring anyone who talks to him at work, face permanently pulled down in a frown, Changmin and Sohyun tiptoeing around him like he’s a wild animal poised to strike at one wrong movement, and he supposes he can’t blame them. 

He doesn’t mean to be snappy, but the frustration in his veins refuses to settle, leaving him on edge at any given moment, filled with anger and lashing out at anyone nearby. More than anything he turns his wrath inwards, constantly barraging himself with guilt that becomes mangled in his head until it tangles into rage that he’s helpless against. 

His mood culminates when he’s at work on a dull day, mind familiarly numb with the constant underlying storm raging as he types away at his keyboard. He doesn’t get any warning from the receptionist before the door to his office is swinging open, and he has a sharp remark for whoever’s coming in unannounced ready, but every thought in his head falls flat when his dad walks in the door and closes it behind him. 

Seonghwa’s stunned into silence, his back straightening in reflex as he watches his dad sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk like he’s any other client, and not his father that he hasn’t seen since he was a kid. His dad is almost exactly like he remembers him; rigid, stern, cold, stoic. The only difference Seonghwa can see is deeper lines etched into his father’s unemotional face, his eyes calculating as they similarly survey Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s unsure he’ll be proud of what he sees, aware of the bags weighing down the skin under his eyes and ailing complexion complemented by bloodshot eyes. Seonghwa always makes sure to quickly avert his gaze when he meets his own eyes in the mirror, anger that this is what he’s turned himself into only rising when he does. 

“Is this any way to greet your father?” His dad asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Seonghwa has to bite his tongue to keep from responding that he wouldn’t know since he hasn’t seen him in years, and instead he stands, offering his dad a small bow. 

“I’m sorry sir, it’s really good to see you.” 

“That’s better.” His dad nods, and then continues, answering the question hanging in the air before Seonghwa gets the chance to ask it, “I’m in town to take care of a few things, and I figured I’d stop by and pay my son a visit.” 

Seonghwa’s skin prickles at the pride in his dad’s voice as he sits back down, as if he’s ever had any familial or loving bond with him beyond how well he obeys orders, stays in line, and makes him money no matter the cost. His dad takes his displeased silence as his cue to elaborate. 

“First I would like to say I’m very pleased with your performance here, you’ve really improved lately, which is good news as we move forward.” His dad gives him the closest thing Seonghwa’s ever seen to a smile on his face, resulting in more of a grimace. 

“Thank you sir.” Seonghwa fidgets where he sits, a warning blaring in his mind. 

“It seems getting rid of that boy made you come to your senses. I was relieved that you made the right decision.”

Seonghwa stills, reeling as his dad reduces everything that Hongjoong is down to ‘that boy,’ just someone who was holding Seonghwa back, who is better off gone. He grits his teeth and waits for his dad to continue, unbothered by his silence.

“That being said, your success has opened up a new opportunity for you. You’re needed at our branch in London immediately.” 

Seonghwa’s throat threatens to close up at the thought of venturing so far away, but maybe a temporary change of pace would be good for him to clear his head. 

“How long do you need me there for?” 

He hears his dad’s phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulls it out, typing on it while he answers without even looking at Seonghwa. 

“You’re needed there permanently. I have a house lined up for you, you have until the end of the week to pack up your things, your maid will help you.” 

Seonghwa stares at his dad’s face, shadowed by his phone. He won’t even look at Seonghwa while he instructs that he uproots his entire life that he’s made for himself without an ounce of consideration for his feelings or opinions.

“I- I thought we agreed that this is the best place for me to be the most beneficial to the company.” 

“We’ve reevaluated, and you’re no longer needed here. Think of it as a promotion for your hard work, you should be honored.”

His dad still won’t put down that  _ fucking  _ phone and talk to Seonghwa. 

“No.” 

His dad stiffens, finally lowering his phone and narrowing his eyes at Seonghwa. 

“No?” His voice lowers. 

“I won’t move. I have a life here, I’m working well, and I don’t want to go anywhere else.” Seonghwa stands his ground. 

His dad’s stare is unwavering and piercing, “You will go where you’re needed by the company. Where is your loyalty, after everything I’ve done for you?” 

Seonghwa feels a wall in his restraint crumble, “Where’s my loyalty? I have  _ always  _ done what you asked.”

“Yes, and now you’ll do this too. You do what’s necessary to be successful. You don’t want to end up poor and with nothing do you?” His dad’s voice is smug, like Seonghwa couldn’t possibly disagree, and it only stokes the fire of anger building in Seonghwa. 

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all that should matter.” Seonghwa would've never expected the words to come out of his mouth, but Hongjoong pulled out parts of him he never knew existed. 

His dad has the audacity to laugh, deep and dark, and Seonghwa’s fingernails dig into his thighs. 

“The only way to be happy  _ is  _ to have money, and then you can have anything you want.” 

Seonghwa flashes back to the first dinner he had with Hongjoong, when he’d coaxed a confession out of him without Seonghwa being aware of what he was admitting.

_ Money isn’t everything, Hongjoong!  _

Hongjoong had gotten Seonghwa to confess that money couldn’t buy him everything on the first day they met, and he’d continued teaching him the lesson until the day he left. Seonghwa was just too blind to see it, and it cost him everything.

His dad takes his lack of response for agreement, and he looks at Seonghwa with the arrogance of someone who has never been denied anything in his life.

It crawls under Seonghwa’s skin, replaces every nerve with defiant resentment. He can only pray that he’d never looked at Hongjoong like that. The last layer of his self control is torn to the ground with the fury of someone forced into compliance his whole life, the only light in his life ripped from him. 

“And what would you know about happiness? Your wife left you when I was born.” 

He sees the utter shock that swims in his dad’s eyes consumed by pure fire, an expression of disgust on his dad’s face that he hadn’t known he was capable of. Seonghwa pulls from his fury, uses it to fuel his own as he’s urged to push his dad further, finally allowing himself the freedom. 

“Your mother was a bitch, and I was glad when she left.” His dad is like stone, his words slow and every sound the point of a knife.

“Well I think she dodged a bullet.” Seonghwa spits. He sees his dad’s hands clenched in fists.

“Where is this defiance coming from? I thought we finally understood each other. You never caused any problems, so what changed-” 

Seonghwa can see the realization fall over his dad’s face. 

“Is this because of that homeless boy?” 

Seonghwa tries to keep his features neutral, his reaction nonexistent, but he knows he failed when he sees the dismissive spark in his dad’s eyes.

“Leave him out of this.” Seonghwa bites, throwing every ounce of warning into his words. 

“Ah, I see. Even after he goes back to the streets, the little rat still causes problems.” 

Seonghwa feels static in his veins, blood rushing in his ears. The anger that has been ebbing beneath the surface surges, burying him in years of unshed neglect and resentment, and he drags his dad under the waves. 

“That ‘little rat’ is the most hardworking, creative, and successful person I’ve ever met. His parents threatened to crush him just like you did, but he had the guts to stand up to them the way I couldn’t. He may be homeless, but he’s worth more than you could ever even  _ hope  _ to be, and I love him more than anyone will ever love you.”

Seonghwa stands, towering over his dad.

“I should’ve done this years ago, but I needed Hongjoong to convince me to tell you to shove your immoral company up your ass. I don’t care what you do to me. I won’t let you control me anymore, I’m going to be happy. I’m going to be successful in a way that you never will. I quit.” 

He brushes past his dad, his head held high as he reaches the door to his office. 

“You’re making a big mistake, son.” 

Seonghwa pauses, “You’ve never been a father to me. And for once, I’m making the right choice. I won’t throw away my life anymore.” He walks out the door, relishing the knowledge that he never has to go back. 


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Seonghwa does when he steps into his house is call his real estate agent. He feels giddy, like he’s floating, like a weight’s been lifted off of him and he can finally see past the clouds in his vision. For the first time in weeks, he feels hope. 

For the rest of the night, he makes calls and plans. He plans to sell his house, to rent a nice small house or apartment, to find Hongjoong and beg him to give him a second chance. He makes calls regarding his job and to sort out his money separate from what his dad has control over. He eats a full real meal, making sure to be on his best behavior to Changmin, and he feels more sturdy on his feet.

He lets his exhaustion catch up to him early, and he falls into a deep, much needed sleep. The minute he wakes up he plans again, working out how to provide a life that Hongjoong deserves, and how to give himself the happiness he’s been deprived of for so long. 

Not until the afternoon of the next day does he feel confident enough in what he’s worked out to search for Hongjoong, and he sets out down the street with buzzing anticipation. He sends off texts to Hongjoong, even trying to call him a couple times, but he gives up when he's met with radio silence. 

He searches through parks, checks alleyways, tromps down endless sidewalks looking for a glimpse of blue hair. He staves off the discouragement that creeps in as the sun moves across the sky, and there’s no sign of Hongjoong after he’s checked every inch of the city that he can think to. He’s hesitant to go to the last place that comes to mind, but he refuses to give up now. He has his driver pick him up, instructing him to his last hope of finding Hongjoong. 

Walking up to the restaurant Hongjoong took him to what seems like so long ago, Seonghwa feels nerves race up his spine. He pushes through it, stepping in the door to be greeted by the same warmth he remembers. He’s both relieved and terrified when he sees Heejin’s cheerful face. 

“Seonghwa! I’m so glad to see you again!” She pulls him into a tight hug. 

Seonghwa allows himself a second to bask in the comfort before he pulls back, his face and tone conveying his seriousness. 

“Heejin, I need to know if you might be able to tell me a place Hongjoong could be.” 

The smile falls off her face as she eyes him, thinking. Seonghwa wonders if she’ll kick him out or scream at him, but instead she starts ushering him forward further into the restaurant. 

“Why don’t you sit down for a minute? I”ll bring you something to eat, you look like you could use a good meal.” She pats his back as they walk towards a table. 

“Wait, but I really need to-”

“I’ll bring you the same thing you had last time, okay?” Heejin leads him to a chair, smiling as he sits down before she walks away. 

Seonghwa looks after her, filled with confusion, his response dying on his tongue. He slumps back in his chair, giving up on solving the enigma that is Heejin and resigning himself to his fate. At the least he’ll get an amazing meal out of it, but if she can’t help him find Hongjoong he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

A waiter comes to bring him his drink, and he feels on edge while he waits for his food, his leg bouncing, fingernails rapping against the table. He’s already wasted enough time away from Hongjoong and away from the life he owes himself, now every second that passes without making things right feels like torture. 

He takes a couple bites when he receives his meal, eager to finish quickly so he can talk to Heejin again and continue his search for Hongjoong. While the food is as wonderful as he remembers, its wonder is soured by the absence of Hongjoong sitting across from him, the proud smile when Seonghwa had enjoyed the food from the place in his past that meant so much to him, his laugh as they talked through topics as the night went on. Seonghwa practically trembles with the need to see him again. 

As if sensing his distress, Heejin comes back to the table, and Seonghwa sets down his silverware, all of his focus on her. 

“Mind if I sit?” She asks, gesturing towards the empty chair across from him. 

“Please.” He answers with his own gesture, the irony of the polite word in his near desperate state not lost on him.

She sits down, watching Seonghwa with perfectly friendly features, but Seonghwa can see the careful, guarded look in her eyes. He takes a deep breath, suddenly more afraid to face the small lady before him than he was his own father. 

“So, why do you need to find Hongjoong?” She asks. 

“Well I- we just... “ Seonghwa pauses, the half truth he was trying to fabricate falling away. 

Heejin is one of the closest things Hongjoong has to a mother, and if he can’t be honest with her, she’d never be able to trust him, disrupting his need to gain her approval. He also gets the feeling that she’d be able to see right through any lie he’d try, that she’d appreciate him being upfront with her.

“Honestly, I fucked up.” He states. Heejin’s eyebrows raise, presumably at his word choice, but she nods in understanding nonetheless, waiting for him to explain. 

He ends up diving into everything the two of them went through together, describing how his thoughts and feelings towards the younger changed gradually, before he was even aware of it. He tells her about when Hongjoong showed him his graffiti, and mentions their shared kiss, noticing her mouth pull up in a small smile. 

He cringes as he recalls what happened with his dad, what he’d threatened him with, and what had happened between him and Hongjoong as a result. Red hot anger races through him when he remembers how he’d thrown Hongjoong out, regret stronger than he’s ever felt tugging at his senses. He stares down at the table as he finishes his explanation. 

“Making him leave was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I wish I would’ve seen that he was right sooner, then maybe I wouldn’t have lost him. He means so much to me, all I want is to make things right.” He looks into Heejin’s eyes, knowing his own are pleading, “I need him.” 

Silence stretches between the two of them when Seonghwa’s done talking, and he feels unnerved when he can’t gauge Heejin’s reaction, her expression masked. She shifts in her chair. 

“First of all, one thing I know about Hongjoong is that he’s careful who he shares his graffiti with, he’s proud of his art, but he doesn’t show that side of him to just anyone, so I know he trusted you.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t know if she means it as a jab at him, but it is either way, and he accepts the piercing shame that accompanies her words. He’ll never forgive himself for breaking Hongjoong’s trust. 

“I wish I could sit here and give you hell for betraying his trust like that,” Heejin continues, “but I can understand the position you were put in. And I saw how he looked at you, the same way he looks at his favorite piece of art, like he never wants to look away. I think you can make him happy, and I think that he needs you just as much as you need him.” Her words are a spark of hope in Seonghwa, soothing a fraction of his simmering guilt.

“All I want is for him to be happy.” Seonghwa assures her. If nothing else, he’s beyond sure of that fact. 

“I know. He won’t like it, but the only reason I’m telling you where he’s probably at is because even after what happened, I trust you. There’s a bridge a few blocks from here, it’s a place he’s told me about a couple times.” 

Seonghwa nods when she’s finished further explaining how to get to the bridge, itching to go after Hongjoong now that he has a destination, “Thank you, really. How much do I owe you?” He gestures towards the plate in front of him.

“It’s on me.” She waves him off. 

Seonghwa stands, “Thank you again, for everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” She smiles, “Hongjoong is strong, he works himself to the bone for what he wants, but I don’t want him to have to be strong on his own anymore.” 

“If he’ll let me, I’ll make sure he won’t have to.” 

“Good.” Heejin nods, and Seonghwa starts to turn away, “Oh and Seonghwa?” He pauses to face her, “If you hurt him again, you’ll have me to answer to.” 

Seonghwa can’t help but smile, “Yes ma’am.” 

  
  


Seonghwa’s heart pounds in his chest as he approaches the bridge Heejin had described to him. He’d spent the whole day in search of Hongjoong, but now that he’s faced with the reality that he’s just around the concrete corner, he’s quaking with nerves. He would never fathom turning and fleeing, this conversation far too important and necessary, but that doesn’t stop his hands from shaking as he walks forward. 

He’s imagined meeting Hongjoong again every day since the second the younger stepped out the door, but uncertainty creeps in to settle in his gut now that the moment’s finally here. His nervousness is nearly drowned out by the excitement buzzing through him, the anticipation of finally being able to tell Hongjoong all the things he should’ve since the beginning, the possibility of starting to stitch together the torn space between them that should’ve never existed in the first place.

Seonghwa reigns his thoughts back to the present, breathes deeply, rehearsing what he wants to say to Hongjoong in his head, and he takes the final few steps until he’s in view. 

Seeing Hongjoong again tightens something in Seonghwa’s chest more than he expected. Seeing the eyes that once held so much affection, the same eyes he’d dreamed of for weeks, remembering the way they shone when he painted, turned up when he smiled, the pain in them when he’d left. The hands that create beautiful art and caressed Seonghwa’s skin, the touch still a lingering whisper. Seonghwa feels filled with blue, the longing and sadness that accompanies it, the deafening blue of Hongjoong’s vibrant newly dyed hair. 

Seonghwa walks towards Hongjoong, who hasn’t yet noticed his presence. His fingers tingle with the ache of seeing what’s supposed to be Hongjoong’s bed for tonight, and god knows how many nights after. Wind whips through the tunnel underneath the bridge, darkness descending for the night like an unwelcome guest. Pins and needles prick at his skin, heart clenching with the harsh reminder that this is what he forced upon Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa takes a few more steps forward, freezing when Hongjoong’s head snaps up, dark eyes meeting his. Hongjoong stays silent, lips set in a firm line, turned down, his eyes cold but eyebrows raised.

“Heejin told me you might be here. I really need to talk to you.” Seonghwa answers Hongjoong’s unspoken question, straining to keep his voice even. 

At the mention of Heejin, Hongjoong’s surprise deepens, lessening his harsh expression, but it’s quickly smothered by another rigid mask. 

Hongjoong narrows his eyes at him, cold and detached, “Why the hell would she tell you that?” 

Seonghwa holds back a wince, understanding and even expecting his animosity. “You have every reason to be mad at me, and every right to hate me, I know that, I deserve it. I hate myself every day for what I did to you. But I just want to explain, I want to make it up to you.”

Seonghwa looks at him, conveying every ounce of honesty and sincerity that he can in his words and his eyes. He holds his breath until his lungs cry out for air as Hongjoong stands, stepping towards him. Despite being shorter, Hongjoong towers over him, the relentless ice radiating off of him in waves freezing Seonghwa in place, his blood running cold with a fear that Hongjoong’s never instilled in him before. 

“You’re right, you do deserve it.” Hongjoong bites, and Seonghwa can feel his heart shatter, “You had every chance to fix this, I tried to talk to you, but you still threw me out, knowing I had nowhere to go. You don’t get to come here and act like I owe you shit. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it.” 

Seonghwa pushes his feelings aside, collecting the pieces of his heart enough to function, “I know I fucked up, but all I want is to make it right.”

“And to think,” Hongjoong continues like Seonghwa hadn’t spoken at all, “that you actually made me fall for you. You convinced me that you weren’t like all the rest of the rich assholes,” He lets out a dry laugh, “just to turn around and prove that you’re  _ exactly  _ like the worst of them.”

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa’s voice is quiet, broken by shock at the hurt written over the boy in front of him. 

“I  _ told  _ you I’d rather have no love than have it just to have it taken away, but you still went and did exactly that.” He shakes his head, biting his lip to stop it from quivering, “I showed you parts of myself that I never show anybody. I gave you  _ everything,  _ and you threw it away like it all meant nothing to you.”

Seonghwa remembers that night, the vulnerability when Hongjoong had told him about his parents, laced with the honesty of someone who had nothing left to hide. He’s right, Seonghwa realizes, he ended up forcing Hongjoong to relive the one thing he said from the beginning that he never wanted to go through again.

“Every day I wish I had never met you, it would’ve been so much easier that way.” Hongjoong speaks up again, and Seonghwa feels the broken pieces of his heart melt in the heat of the pain that burns him from the inside out. “Now do us both a favor and fuck off. I’m done letting myself get hurt by you.” 

“Hongjoong, please.” Seonghwa doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore, maybe for a second chance, to be able to take it all back, a miracle. 

Hongjoong looks away from him, his voice low, “If you really want to make me feel better, never let me see you again.”

Seonghwa can see the tears in Hongjoong’s eyes, accustomed to him well enough to notice the way he’s trying to fight it. Every fiber of his being begs him to stay, but he can see how much his presence is tearing the younger to shreds, so even though it feels like he’s being ripped apart at the seams, for the first time, it’s Seonghwa that walks away. 


	10. Chapter 10

The anger in Hongjoong’s words settles in his head as he stumbles through the darkness on numb feet, solidifying the fact that Hongjoong’s gone, and Seonghwa can’t get him back. He’d broken them beyond repair, and now he’s left with the remnants of a life he no longer wants and a glimpse at a life that he’ll never have. He feels heavy with the weight of everything he’s lost, everything he’s given up, and everything he threw away. 

When he gets home, he heads directly to the bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey, something he almost never drinks, especially not alone, sitting at the bar as he sips it.

In trying to fix things, he’d only managed to muddy them further, and now he’s drowning in the thick mud turned quicksand, pulling him under until he can’t resurface. He has no one left to blame but himself, and he downs what’s left in his glass in the hopes that it’ll fill the gaping hole in his chest. Instead, he feels it fall through the nothingness in him, down into the bottomless pit where his hope lies abandoned. 

He gets up to pour himself another drink, and when he sits back down Sohyun walks into the kitchen, starting to wipe down the counters. She doesn’t greet him beyond a bow, her eyes avoiding his own. She’s still hesitant around him from his fit of rage he’d turned onto her and Changmin, and it only serves to reinforce the self pity he’s allowing himself to wallow in. The kitchen’s suspended in silence as she cleans, and he twirls the glass in his hand. 

“Sohyun, am I a bad person?” Seonghwa asks her, not missing the way she tenses at his voice. 

She turns towards him, “I’m sorry, sir?”

Seonghwa sighs, “I know I’m your boss, so I won’t blame you if you don’t want to tell me, but you’ve worked for me for a long time now, and I want to know, truly, if you think I’m a bad person.”

_ God knows I do. _

Sohyun takes a minute to think before she talks, “I think that you were born into a certain lifestyle, just like everyone else, but you had so much pressure on you, and you’ve struggled to decide if your own feelings align with that in a way that not a lot of others in your position bother to.”

Seonghwa’s taken aback by her thoughtful response. He hadn’t expected such an honest answer from her, and he’s grateful when she continues. 

“I’ve seen every side of you throughout the years, and I’ve seen the mistakes you’ve made. You’re not perfect by any means, no one is, but there’s a reason I’ve chosen to stick with you. I can see that you do truly care for people, even though you were taught not to show it for so long.” She pauses, letting Seonghwa digest her words. 

“You don’t think I’m like my dad?” Seonghwa asks, the thought plaguing him. Sohyun has also worked for his dad, giving her an outside perspective that he’s eager to hear. 

“In some ways you are,” She says, Seonghwa’s face falling before she explains, “you’re smart, steadfast, capable, and sometimes stubborn like him, but you managed to keep from inheriting his worst traits. He truly is a bad person, and in that way you’re nothing like him.” She tells him, and Seonghwa smiles.

“You helped that boy,” Sohyun adds, “you let him teach you, and I saw that you’ve started to change since he got here. You came alive, in a way that I’d never seen in the years I’ve worked for you.” At the mention of Hongjoong, Seonghwa stiffens, throat constricting.

“Thank you.” Seonghwa manages, truly appreciative of her thoughts. His question had been more of a self deprecating remark, but her words are soothing in a way that he never imagined or anticipated. 

“This is about him, isn’t it?” Sohyun asks then, and Seonghwa thinks she catches on to a lot more than he realizes. 

He nods. “I hurt him. I ruined everything, and I can’t fix it. I tried.” 

Sohyun hums in understanding, “Well I don’t know what will happen, but the one thing I do know for certain, is that you have never been a bad person.” 

She smiles at him, and the weight crushing Seonghwa feels just a little bit lighter. 

  
  


Seonghwa finishes his drink and then heads to bed, exhausted from the events of the day. His conversation with Hongjoong still hangs over him, dark and looming in a way that won’t let him forget. The only reprieve he has is in his dreams. 

He wakes up late for the first time since he can remember, his body still feeling heavy as he lays on his cold mattress, pulling the comforter tighter around himself. He squeezes his eyes shut against the memory of Hongjoong curled up on the couch, his pretty face relaxed in sleep before Seonghwa tore everything away from him. He ends up shoving the comforter off, shoving the thought away with it, and climbing out of bed. 

He wanders around the house, eating half of a meal for his breakfast that’s closer to lunch. He has more calls he could make regarding his house and work, but he can’t bring himself to lift his phone to his ear. He ends up on the couch, tv droning on in front of his unseeing eyes. Everything feels tangled in his head, threads hanging down his neck to strangle his heart and constrict his lungs. He doesn’t regret quitting his job or standing up to his dad, but now he truly feels left with nothing. 

He lays motionless for the remainder of the day, his thoughts filled with Hongjoong and his body filled with lead. Every moment they’d spent together flashes through his mind, overlaid with consuming sadness and remorse. He’s filled to the brim with an endless stream of emotions, some he recognizes and some he doesn't, but all leaving him overwhelmed with no way to release them as they whir inside his chest.

He remembers his and Hongjoong’s first kiss, the way happiness and elation had flowed freely from him, how he felt like he’d dissolve into nothingness if he didn’t kiss Hongjoong in that moment. He remembers how overwhelmed with unadulterated feeling he’d been that day, in a way that he’d never been allowed before, and he recalls the source of the experience.

He’s walking to the door and pulling on his shoes before he even gets the chance to think about what he’s doing. He steps out into the evening, darkening sky meeting his determined gait.

After making a brief stop, Seonghwa roams the streets of the city, eyeing different walls and alleyways. The conflicting emotions banging at his ribcage, screaming to be let out urge him to find a spot that’s out of the way enough for him to feel comfortable. He sets down the bag in his hand, scanning the large brick wall standing before him. He only momentarily stops to wonder if this is a bad idea, if he should just turn around and go home, but the turmoil in him guides his steps to the wall. 

He pulls out the different colors of spray paint he bought, having ended up with every color since he had no idea what he was planning to paint, just that he feels the need to try. He doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to paint anything, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing a random color and staring up at the brick. 

He closes his eyes and remembers Hongjoong encouraging him to let himself go, to let his emotion flow through the paint until it’s conveyed on the canvas. He remembers the way Hongjoong’s voice sounded when he told him to stop thinking so much and just  _ feel.  _

He opens his eyes and paints a single line. 

The first drop hitting the wall breaks a dam inside Seonghwa, and he feels like painting is the only thing keeping him afloat. It’s more of a battle to stop holding himself back without Hongjoong’s steady presence and passionate inspiration, but he’s able to dig up the memory of it well enough to get lost in the moment. 

He didn’t have a plan in mind when he started painting, but it shone through nonetheless, everything swirling inside materializing on the brick wall. 

He paints himself, running, caught in the middle, trapped, confused and digging through the rubble of his life that seems to fall apart faster than he can put it back together. He’s always felt stuck, motionless, severed between upholding the narrative pushed on him since he was born and justifying the deep seated individuality he’d always been taught to lock up, until Hongjoong pried the key from his hands and let it run rampant. 

Sky scrapers emerge through the paint behind him, towering in greys. Chains wrap around one of his wrists, pulling him back towards the buildings that morph into prisons. Even if Seonghwa had the courage to fight, to flee, there was never a time that he didn’t feel chained to his life, his career, smothered under his dad’s thumb. Every dark line represents the lines embedded in him that he feels like will never see the sun.

In front of him he’s reaching out towards Hongjoong’s outstretched hand, who’s just beyond reach no matter how hard he tries, the distance between them immortalized in the paint. The other side of Hongjoong dissolves into butterflies, as blue as the sky they disappear into. Blue surrounds Hongjoong, promising freedom, light, contentment. The bright contrast to his old life offers everything Seonghwa’s been missing, but can’t get close enough to grasp. 

He steps back when he’s done, his chest heaving, spray paint can dangling from his grip. The painting is a mess, colors dripping over each other, everything consisting of splotches of paint, but Seonghwa can see himself in the piece, can feel every ounce of emotion that was blaring at him as he created it.

He stares up at the painting, at the epitome of every feeling coursing through his veins, and feels tears fall down his cheeks. He lets the paint can fall to the ground with a clang as he drops to his knees, hanging his head as sobs tear from his throat. He doesn’t try to silence his gasps or wipe away the tears that flow freely. 

He lets himself cry, his tears feeling like loss, heartbreak, and finally, acceptance. He still feels like he has nothing left, but he’s surprised by feeling almost okay with the idea for the first time, with the idea of building himself from the ground up by doing what makes him happy, the way he always should’ve. 

“Seonghwa?” 

Seonghwa’s head whips to the side, breath hitching when Hongjoong is there, coming to kneel next to him with wide eyes. Seonghwa can imagine how he looks, paint splattered, eyes red rimmed, face tear stained, but he feels less tangled than he ever has as Hongjoong’s eyes flit up to take in his painting, lips parted, before looking back at Seonghwa, his expression softening. 

Seonghwa can’t move, can’t speak as Hongjoong looks him over. He’ll take anything Hongjoong offers him, his head blank and chest fuzzy. His mind short circuits before shutting down completely, heart hammering in his ribcage when Hongjoong brings his hands up to Seonghwa’s cheeks, thumbs feather light as they wipe away the tears there. 

His hands move back to Seonghwa’s neck, and all it takes is a light tug for Seonghwa to fall against him, his face in his neck and arms around his waist. He fists Hongjoong’s shirt in his hands as he cries against his skin, pulling Hongjoong impossibly close, the two of them kneeling on the ground, curled around each other. Seonghwa felt lighter after painting, but nothing could compare to the feeling of Hongjoong’s arms around him, his fingers running through his hair and his soft voice shushing him.

It’s like the last puzzle piece is in place, and Seonghwa feels complete, willing to never separate from Hongjoong again. When they do part, it’s only for Hongjoong to lead them out of the alleyway and to a nearby bench. Seonghwa sits unsure, until Hongjoong grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers, and he relaxes, Hongjoong’s thumb running over the back of his hand the most comfort he could imagine in that moment.

“Hongjoong, I’m so sorry.” Seonghwa voices the main thought scrolling through his head, his voice hoarse from crying.

“I know.” Hongjoong says, “I’m sorry too.” 

“No, you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Hongjoong shakes his head, “I should’ve heard you out yesterday. I was just so surprised, and confused, and angry at you, at myself, at everything. While I think I needed to get some of those feelings off my chest, I shouldn’t have done it like that. I’ve felt horrible about it since you left, that’s why I came to find you.” Hongjoong explains, eyes swimming with guilt that he doesn’t deserve to feel. 

“I’m really glad you did.” Seonghwa tells him, and Hongjoong squeezes his hand in response. Seonghwa lets the air settle between them before he speaks up again. 

“I was  _ so  _ stupid.” He starts out. Hongjoong opens his mouth, and Seonghwa rushes to continue before the younger can disagree. “Seriously, I was.” 

“I was going to agree with you.” Hongjoong says instead, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Seonghwa can’t help but let out a laugh, the sudden joke unexpected but welcome, easing some of the tension still clinging to him. 

“So what did you want to tell me yesterday?” Hongjoong asks, his voice soft. 

“I quit my job.” Seonghwa says first. 

“Oh wow, what happened?” 

“My dad showed up here.” Seonghwa sees Hongjoong’s eyebrows shoot up at the words, “Yeah, I had no idea he was coming, and he just showed up. He told me that I need to move to London.” Hongjoong’s surprise deepens, but Seonghwa can see him try to hide it.

“Why didn’t you go?” Hongjoong asks. 

“I just couldn’t.” Seonghwa shrugs, “I didn’t want to leave here, but my dad didn’t care about how I felt. He said such terrible things, and I just got so mad. I’d been thinking a lot about everything you said, and I realized nothing about working there made me happy, and him trying to force me to move was the last straw, so I quit.”

Hongjoong nods along as he talks, “Well good for you.” he says, “And for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you didn’t go.” 

Seonghwa smiles, proud that he’d finally made one right decision, for both of them. 

“I’ve already started selling my house.” Seonghwa adds, “I don’t need such a huge house. I’ll move to a smaller one, or even an apartment.”

“That’s really great.” Hongjoong grins, his approval lying warm against Seonghwa’s heart. 

Hongjoong doesn’t interject where he may fit into Seonghwa’s plan, and Seonghwa has no idea what his thoughts are or where they stand, but he can’t hold in all of the plans he’d let run wild in his head, figuring there’s no better time to lay all the cards out on the table so they can move forward knowing exactly what page each of them are on. 

“And I have enough money to support myself until I can get a new job in a different field.” He gulps, “I have enough money to support both of us.” He can’t gauge Hongjoong’s reaction, spurring him to elaborate, “I know you can’t just forgive me for what I did, but if you give me the chance I’ll work to make it up to you every day. I want you to live with me, and I want to pay for you to go to school. I want to be with you again.” 

Seonghwa feels everything in him call out for Hongjoong, his heart beating his name, “I love you, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong brings his hand to grip Seonghwa’s chin gently, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. 

“I love you too Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispers, “I always have.” 

His lips meet Seonghwa’s, the touch soft, making warmth spread from his chest, consuming him. His hands search out Hongjoong, every sense alight with Hongjoong’s lips against his again, his touch, the way they can’t help but smile against each other. Seonghwa breaks the kiss to pull Hongjoong into a tight hug, pure elation sinking into him. He could have nothing else for the rest of his life, as long as he has Hongjoong by his side. 

They sit on the bench as the sun sets around them, orange turning to blue, and they talk. They apologize, clear the air, catch up, apologize again, neither in a hurry to part. Hongjoong talks to him about the things he’d proposed, agreeing to them, discussing how their situation will work. Seonghwa never lets go of Hongjoong’s hand. 

When they finally walk back to Seonghwa’s house again, intertwined hands swinging between them, Hongjoong smiling up at him, showered by the stars, Seonghwa thinks that he’s finally bringing home back with him, and he’s eager to live his life now that it’s finally starting. 

Once they get home, pulling off their shoes, Sohyun walks by, smiling at Seonghwa when she sees the two of them before she walks away with a small bow. Seonghwa can’t stop his own lips from turning up in a small smile. He’s going to miss her when she doesn’t work for him anymore, their smaller place not going to require a maid, but he’ll give her only the utmost raving recommendation. 

Him and Hongjoong decide to watch a movie together, both of them too exhausted from the events of the day to do much else. It feels all too familiar as Hongjoong changes into some of Seonghwa’s extra clothes and he grabs the fluffy blanket, bringing it to the couch, almost like they spent no time apart at all.

Hongjoong immediately curls against him when they lay down, playing the movie. Seonghwa couldn’t recite a single event or character from the movie if his life depended on it, all of his attention on Hongjoong against him, the joy he feels having him in his arms again. The smell of Hongjoong’s shampoo, his small frame fit perfectly with Seonghwa’s, the way he giggles at the movie, hand held in Seonghwa’s, it all adds up to the way Seonghwa’s heart feels far too full of pure adoration.

Hongjoong’s snoring lightly when the movie’s credits roll, and Seonghwa can’t help but nuzzle against his cheek, cooing when his nose scrunches in his sleep. Instead of letting them sleep on the couch again, he gently shakes Hongjoong awake, leading him up the stairs, his eyes drooping. He helps them both get ready, and for the first time they climb into Seonghwa’s bed together. It’s still far too big for the two of them, especially when they’re pressed close together, but it feels infinitely less empty. 

Hongjoong, wearing only boxers and one of Seonghwa’s shirts hanging off his shoulders, wraps his limbs around Seonghwa and presses their lips together. Seonghwa holds onto him just as tightly, melting into the kiss before Hongjoong lays his head on his chest, burrowing closer and humming happily. 

“I love you baby.” Seonghwa breathes. 

Hongjoong smiles, “I love you too, Hwa.” 

Seonghwa will never get used to the way his heart flips in circles at hearing Hongjoong say those words.

Seonghwa drifts to sleep warm and relaxed, his life ahead of him and his world in the boy lying over him, breaths already evening out. He doesn’t know if things will work out exactly like they’ve planned, but he knows, no matter what, that his future is painted in blue. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
